Doctor Who: A Man Out of Time
by LoveCrafter
Summary: This is an adaptation of HP Lovecraft's Shadow Out of Time. The Tenth Doctor and his new companion, Celia, encounter the Yith, an ancient alien race that inhabited the earth over 50 million years ago. They call themselves the Great Race, and the Doctor must find a way to stop their plans to take over the earth again.
1. Prologue

Arkham, Massachusetts. May 14, 1908

Nathaniel Wingate Peaslee, economics professor at Miskatonic University was in his office, preparing for the day's lecture in his Political Economy VI course. It was spring and the birds outside the window were singing. The curtains fluttered in the light breeze, and sunlight flickering through them made patterns on the wall that shifted with the breeze. Professor Peaslee was a leading economist and one of the smartest men of his age. He could have also been a professor of physics or math and his brilliant papers on those topics were often discussed at conferences around the world.

Today, he planned to lecture to his students about present tendencies of economics, a topic he could teach in his sleep. As he gathered up his notes and papers to put into his briefcase, he looked up to see a shimmer of light that did not seem to be following the same patterns as those from the curtains. He wondered if someone were outside his window with a mirror shining it into his room. He stepped to look out the window and the light vanished. He could see several students as they rushed across campus to class or to the library. Crows had gathered in the trees along the path and their raucous calling belied the otherwise peaceful scene. No one was nearby.

He shook his head and turned away from the open window and back to the task. At that moment, a ball of light came at him from behind and hit him in the head. He felt it like a smack, and his hand went reflexively to the back of his head. He paused in alarm, wondering what he had felt. He turned back to the window to see what had hit him. Nothing unusual there. He shook his head in confusion. He had a sudden pounding headache and the feeling that he was losing control of his thoughts and actions. It was as though some other mind were taking over the movements of his body. He had to will himself forward. Then, for a moment at least, the feeling passed.

He looked at his watch, saw that he was running late, and hurried from the room to the lecture hall. The auditorium was packed. His lectures on any topic were always well attended. He stumbled as he took the stage, and some of the students murmured in surprise.

"I begin today with a lecture on the history and present tendencies of economics. It is blsibum snorkeman." The professor paused, aware that his mouth was not working properly. His panicked mind wondered if he were having a stroke.

He tried to get his thoughts together, but they would not make sense. He struggled to stay focused on the topic, but his brain would not cooperate. He gathered himself up and tried again, "Economics," he began slowly and with great effort to form the word, "is the study," he continued even more slowly, "trinsilate misrump."

His students became increasingly alarmed at his actions. He could see this in their faces, even as the room swam around him. At times, it seemed he was in another room with strange beings all around him. At other times, he could see the students clearly in front of him.

He looked down at his hands and shrieked in horror at the sight of them. They did not seem to be hands at all, but horrible lobster-like pincers protruding from the end of scaly green limbs! His head felt strange, his eyes seemed to see in more than one direction at once. He wanted to cry out for help, but could not control his mouth! And then, with a frantic look at the faces staring at him in the audience, he collapsed into unconsciousness. Several students rushed the stage to help him. Someone called for a doctor.


	2. Chapter 1: Earth 2035

London, UK. July 15, 2035

The blue police box sat at the edge of a park.

The park was busy this sunny summer afternoon. On one end, children swinging on the swings were chatting to one another. A two year old child screeched with joy as he slid down the slide. Under the monkey bars, another small child burst into tears over her skinned knee. Not far away, a young couple in love lounged on a picnic blanket, absorbed in each other's presence. The breeze toyed with the leaves on the massive old oak trees, making dappled patterns on the grass in the sun. Squirrels chased each other around their trunks. Robins in the tree branches sang to each other and sparrows darted and dodged in between buildings just off the park. A young father ran by the police box on the path, pushing a sleeping child in a stroller. A couple walking their dog on the path remarked about the beautiful day and about the butterflies that fluttered around the flower beds.

The police box was unnoticed by those enjoying the park. They laughed and talked and walked past it much as though it wasn't there at all. However, there was one woman who was very interested in it. She was slim and of medium height. She wore a knee length gauze skirt with large blue and orange flowers on a white background. Her short sleeved blouse matched the blue in the skirt's flowers. A blue headband held back her long, reddish brown hair. She had large white framed sunglasses over her green eyes, and orange ballet flats on her feet. She walked like a dancer, light on her feet, graceful in her movements.

She had been there for some time, walking around the police box. She scrunched up her small mouth in puzzlement, lifting the sunglasses off her eyes, putting them back, lifting them off again. She stepped back to look at it, and stepped closer to peer at it. She was touching it carefully as though trying to convince herself it was real, when she heard footsteps approaching on the path.

Coming out from behind it, she startled a man in a dark pinstriped suit and tie just as he approached. He had brown hair with impossible sideburns, brown glasses over brown eyes, sneakers on his feet, and a long brown overcoat draped over his arm.

"Oh, hello!" he said, smiling at her, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of her. "You um, startled me there."

She looked him up and down, and then seemed to dismiss him with a shake of her head, and turned to look back at the police box.

He stood there a moment, unsure what to make of her. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Ahem."

She turned, "You still here?" she asked, sounding annoyed.

"Is that a problem?" he asked.

"Well I don't know, actually. It's like a puzzle," she said cryptically, touching the police box as she spoke.

"What? This police box?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"Well, it's not what it looks like. Anyway, what's it to you? Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" she asked, growing impatient.

"I do, actually," he agreed with a shake of his head, "but it seems I've been delayed. What's so great about this box?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," he insisted, looking at her over the edge of his glasses.

The woman looked at him steadily. She sighed, and put out her hand to touch the wooden box. "Well, what the hell," she said, taking a deep breath. "For starters, this box isn't at all what it looks like."

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking at her warily.

"I mean, it's not a police box at all."

"No!" he replied in disbelief. "How do you know?"

She leaned closer to him and whispered conspiratorially, "I've been inside!"

"What?" He looked a bit alarmed. He reached out and tried the door. It was locked. "It's locked. How did you get in?"

"Oh, I have ways," she smiled. "And guess what?"she asked, smiling at her secret.

"What?" he asked, not believing her.

"It's bigger on the inside!" she whispered.

"I don't believe you," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he spoke.

"Ok, I'll show you," she retorted. She reached into her pocket and took out an object that looked like a combination pen and flashlight.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, looking at the object in her hand with a trace of alarm. "Did—did someone give it to you?"

"I made it" she replied, looking down at it in her hand. "I've always been good with things" she added, looking up at him. "Good at math, science, languages. Everything's come easy to me. I made this when I was fifteen, I think. Use it to open locks, turn things on and off—you know, like a screwdriver. Anyway, Mum always said she had no idea where I got my brains from."

"Yes, where did you get your brains from?" he murmured, staring at her with growing apprehension.

"Anyway, I thought you said you had some place to be. Can't you get on?"

"I don't know, I thought you were going to show me the inside of this thing," he replied stubbornly, leaning his hand on the side of the police box.

The flashlight object in her hand suddenly began beeping rapidly, and she turned to point it toward the cause of the noise. She was surprised to find it pointing toward him

"Who are you?" she asked, looking at him and then to the beeping, flashing, object in her hand.

"Who are you?" he asked at the same time. To her surprise, the man had a similar object in his hand and was using it in much the same way.

He shrugged apologetically at the look on her face. "Sorry about that. Just being careful. Still don't know who you are though," he added, looking at his sonic screwdriver in puzzlement. It was making a similar, rapid high pitched beeping, and a light flashed from the end of it. He tapped it against his hand as though it were shorting out. "I think your—thingy—is causing mine to malfunction. It's never done that before. What's your name?"

"Celia."

"I don't believe you," The man replied.

"What? You think I'm lying about my name?" Celia asked indignantly.

"No. I don't believe you about the sonic screwdriver," he corrected, still looking at hers in alarm.

"That's what you call it? Well, I did make it and I can prove it. I have the drawings all here in my notebook," she retorted, reaching down to the blue leather purse slung over her shoulder on a long slim strap and taking out a notebook. She opened it to the corresponding page.

"See?" she said, handing it over to him.

He looked at her diagram. "Oh!" he said. "I do see."

"See what?" she asked, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

"You made it wrong," he said matter-of-factly, handing the notebook back.

"How can you say I made it wrong?" she argued. "I made it exactly as I drew it up!"

"Yes, that's what's puzzling," he admitted.

"Now you're not making any sense," she pointed out.

"So what brought you here?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I don't really know, actually," she admitted. "I was on the bus, on my way home from work when my—sonic screwdriver—as you called it, started making this ear-piercing and painful noise. It was causing trouble on the bus, so I got off and started walking. When I got near here, the noise changed so that it was beeping, and then the beeping got faster—almost as though the box were a homing beacon."

"Interesting," was all he said, still looking at the device in her hand.

"I told you my name, but you haven't told me yours," she pointed out.

"Oh, right. I'm the Doctor," he said, holding out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"The Doctor? I'm sure there's more than one. Doctor who?"

"No. Just me. Just 'The Doctor.'"

"What sort of doctor?"

"No sort. All sorts. Just the Doctor. Why are you asking so many questions?" he said, sounding irritated.

"Because I have a feeling that you know more about this box than you're letting on. I also think that you're not from around here," she added, looking at the sonic screwdriver in her hand.

"You are right about that," he admitted. "It is mine in a way. That is, I stole it a long time ago. I'm a Time Lord. I'm a 900 year old alien from Gallifrey." He waited to see her reaction to this news.

She shrugged an okay, and asked, "So what is it? And how is it bigger on the inside?"

"It's a TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension in Space. A time and space machine."

"Time machine. Really?" Celia replied derisively, shaking her head.

"You don't believe me? You said you saw the inside," he retorted defensively. "You believe me about the 900 year old alien Time Lord, but not about the time machine?" He shook his head at her.

"Time travel is impossible," Celia retorted.

"I guess you're right. Well, I have to be going now," he said, suddenly eager to get inside.

"Take me with you," she said in a rush. It wasn't a plea. Just a statement.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he replied, shaking his head.

"Why not?" she asked stubbornly.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" he asked irritably.

"I'm twenty-five. All done with 'school,' thank you," she retorted.

He looked at the object in her hand. "You really made that?" he asked, looking at it doubtfully.

"Where else would I have gotten it?"

"Oh, I don't know. It's a _time machine_," he repeated. "_I_ might have given it to you."

"No one gave it to me," she insisted. "I just saw it in a book one day. And somehow, I knew how to make it.

"In a book?" the Doctor asked, looking at her intently. "What book?"

"A book in a library." Celia responded defensively, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"What library?" the Doctor asked equally defensively.

"A library with books," Celia replied.

"Where? What library?" he asked again, growing impatient.

"Doctor, this conversation is making my head hurt,"Celia replied, holding her head.

"I'm sorry, Celia, but I need to understand how you could have made this."

"I don't remember what library. We traveled around a lot when I was a kid and wherever we went I'd find a library to hang out in. I saw this design in the book, and when I got home, I got a notebook and drew the plans up from memory."

The Doctor was clearly not satisfied with her answer. "May I see your screwdriver?"

Celia reluctantly handed it to him. She was suddenly afraid that he might keep it or worse, break it.

He was turning it over in his hands. "Very well made," he mused.

"Thank you."

"You have an extraordinary memory to have copied it into your notebook."

Celia blushed.

"But it's put together wrong."

"What?" she looked deflated, but puzzled. "I don't understand."

"I don't understand, either. But the design is slightly—_off_. As though it was meant to cause mine to react funny."

"But I could see the plans in my head," Celia insisted. "In fact, I don't tell people this very often, but I have a photographic memory."

"I believe you," he replied.

"You didn't just a minute ago."

"But I do now."

"Why? What changed?" she asked.

He didn't seem to hear her. He seemed to hesitate as though part of him wanted very much to understand and part of him wanted very much to get away as fast as possible.

"Then take me with you," she repeated. "Please? Just a short trip?" she pleaded.

He looked at her again with his head slightly tilted, as though trying to make sense of her. "Alright, Celia. Just one trip and then back home to your mother."

"Yay!" she replied, and then to his surprise, she ran off around the back of the TARDIS.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I had to get my messenger bag! I set it down when I got here. I never go anywhere without it."

The Doctor shook his head in puzzlement and opened the door to the TARDIS. Everything was as he'd left it. He made sure to check that before letting Celia in.


	3. Chapter 2: Impossible Things

"So, where to?" Celia asked, setting down her backpack just inside the door.

"Down the hall and to the right, or is it left?" he replied, stepping up to the controls.

"Excuse me?" she asked, looking at him in confusion.

"You can bring your bag down the hall—" he sounded impatient.

"Oh. Right. Get it out of the way, then," she stammered, picking it back up and walking down the hall.

The Doctor turned to his instrument panel and began scanning Celia for clues about her intelligence. He stared at the screen, disbelieving what he saw.

"So, bag's tucked away. Where are we going?" she asked, returning from a different direction behind him.

"How'd you do that?" he asked, turning around in alarm.

"I don't know. Just followed the hallway like you said," Celia replied, wondering what she'd done wrong. "Are you always this crabby?"

"I'm old, Celia. What do you want to be hanging around an old man for?" he replied with a sigh.

"Because I want to learn! I want to see things that I've never seen before. Impossible things," she replied as if this were obvious. "And who better to learn from than an old man with a time machine?"

"And it doesn't bother you that I'm a 900 year old alien?"

"You're only as young as you feel," she replied with a smile. "So. Where are we going—old man?"

"Let's let the TARDIS decide shall we?" he asked, flipping a lever setting the ship in motion. His eyes found hers and then looked up at the screen turned out of her line of sight. He read the report and shook his head. "Impossible things," he said, looking back at her with a grin.

She looked at his outfit. "Suit and tie, and…sneakers?" she asked with a puzzled expression.

"Yes, well there's a bit of running in what I do," he replied, thoughtfully. "Quite a bit, actually," he added, scratching the side of his face as he gave it more thought. "You up for it?" he asked her with a grin.

"Sure," she replied, not imagining what he could possibly mean.


	4. Chapter 3:Let's See What's Out There

The Doctor pulled at some levers and the ship began to hum.

"Why are you so interested in the impossible?" he asked her.

"I don't know. I suppose because whenever you eliminate the possible, all that's left is the impossible."

"That Sherlock Homes quote. I think you got it wrong," he said, shaking his head.

"Suit yourself, man traveling in an impossible box."

Suddenly the TARDIS began spinning out of control. The Doctor yelled at Celia to flip switches and push levers.

"Which one?" she yelled back.

"That one!" he yelled, pointing.

"This one?" she yelled back, pushing it.

"No! No! The other one! Can't you follow directions?" he asked angrily.

"Well, it was impossible to know what you wanted!"

"You're the one saying you wanted impossible!" he yelled back.

"Oh, you're an impossible man!"

"I've heard that before!"

"I bet you have," she replied tartly. The ship seemed to settle down and they both took a minute to catch their breath. "Why do you make yourself so difficult to be around?" she asked him after a moment. "Don't you want friends?"

"Is that what we are? Friends?"

"I think we could be! We obviously have something in common," referring to the sonic screwdrivers. "Fellow explorers, looking for adventure."

"I wonder if you'll always feel that way," he mused.

"If not, that would be my problem, wouldn't it? But look, if it's too much of a problem to be with me, then take me home. I don't want to burden you with my presence."

The ship had stopped. "It appears we've landed," he stated, looking at the screen.

She didn't reply, only stood there with her arms crossed across her chest.

"Don't you want to see what's out there?" he asked contritely.

"Of course I do! But only if you're not going to be all crabby at me for being here," Celia replied, uncrossing her arms.

"I'm sorry. You're right. I do make myself difficult to be with. But I don't like traveling alone," he looked at her with chagrin.

"Then cheer up! Let's just enjoy the moment. Life's too short to be crabby all the time. Open the door and let's see what's out there!"

The Doctor flipped a few switches and looked back at the screen in front of him, still puzzled by the readings he was getting about Celia. While she was looking toward the door, he pulled a lever and pushed a couple buttons. As she turned back to see him, he snapped to and joined her at the door.

"Right then. Let's see what's out there, shall we?" he asked her with a wide grin.


	5. Chapter 4: The Doctor and the Professor

Arkham, Massachusetts. September 27, 1913

The door of the TARDIS opened, and the Doctor looked out. "Where are we?" Celia asked, coming to stand behind him. "And, I suppose, _when_ are we?"

He grinned at her questions. He looked around, smelled the air, and replied, "By the look of it, I'd say we were in Arkham, Massachusetts, the United States—mid 1910s?

"Why here I wonder?" Celia asked, coming to stand beside him on the grass. It was early fall and leaves were just starting to turn. Geese flew across the sky, calling to each other as they practiced the giant v-formation. Two crows landed in a tree near the TARDIS, flapping noisily as they came to rest. A chill breeze carried gray clouds across a watery blue sky, and Celia shivered, wishing she had brought a sweater. It had been so warm and sunny just a few moments ago!

One look told them the TARDIS was parked on the edge of a campus. One side of the street was the Miskatonic University, the other side were stately mansions. It seemed as normal a place as anything could be. Mundane and dull.

"I have no idea why here. Let's have a look around, shall we?" he asked, offering his arm.

"Miskatonic University," Celia said, reading the sign on the building. "I bet you could teach a course or two here," she added.

He shrugged modestly.

"Wait, you mean you have?" she asked in surprise.

He nodded. "It was a long time ago."

"Time must get a bit crowded with you zipping around in it in 900 years of traveling, Old Man. There's going to be a time when you run into yourself!"

"Don't call me that," he retorted.

"What? Old Man? But you said so yourself!" she laughed.

"But I don't need to be reminded of it!"

They had been walking as they talked, keeping an eye out for any sign of what had brought them here. "Maybe there's nothing going on," Celia remarked, looking at the peaceful day as students made their way to class. "Maybe she just wanted you to have a vacation for a change."

"She? Who she?"

"The TARDIS," Celia replied as though it were obvious.

"Why did you say 'she'?"

"I don't know," Celia shook her head. "Isn't that what you call her? And Old Girl? And—Sexy?"

The Doctor looked at her with alarm. "I never said any of that since I've met you."

"Oh. Maybe it was something I saw when I looked inside it," she replied, unconcerned.

The Doctor stalked off away from her. "This was a mistake. I can feel it. Something's wrong."

"I'm sorry, Doctor. Whatever I said wrong, I'm sorry!" Celia cried, watching him stalk away. "Now what?" she wondered to herself. This was not turning out to be the adventure she expected. What did she expect, actually? Well, not Earth, not Massachusetts, USA. Could the TARDIS have taken them to a more boring location and time?

Just as she thought to herself that nothing interesting could possibly happen here, she started to look around at the people in the street. There was something strange about them that she couldn't quite identify. Something a bit—_off_. Not all of them, certainly, but many. They looked at her warily, and she wondered if they had heard the TARDIS and had seen them come out of it. She thought of fish, and wondered what made her think it.

Across the lawn from the TARDIS, tall trees grew in a line. Crows cawed raucously in the tops of the trees away from where she stood. The air around her seemed expectantly waiting for something. More crows joined the first two in the tree nearby, cawing and flapping their wings. Soon the tree behind her was thick with cawing, crackling, flapping and fluttering. The whole flock seemed to be converging in the tree by the TARDIS. Celia shuddered without knowing quite what was wrong. Something was odd about this place. She just couldn't place it.

She had turned to head back into the TARDIS and away from the crows to wait for the Doctor to return, when she heard a crash in one of the nearby houses. Not far away, several cars were parked in front of one of the mansions. Given the decade, it was unusual to see any cars on the street. It appeared that this was the house where the crash had occurred.

Celia looked around, but there was no sign of the Doctor. "Well, there's no harm in looking!" she said, turning to walk up the path. There was another crash and another, and suddenly several men rushed out of the house, shaking their heads and talking to each other in alarm.

"There's nothing that can be done for him!" one was saying to another.

"Impossible case!" the other replied. "And now this!"

"'_Impossible!' They said_," Celia thought to herself. "_Perhaps we've come to the right place after all!_"

She walked cautiously into the house. The front door had been left open in the exodus. "Hello?" she called out, looking around for sign of the Doctor and the cause of the crashes. Broken glass crunched under her feet. It appeared a mirror had been broken. She looked around the room—noticing that several mirrors had been broken. Glass was everywhere.

In a darkened corner of the room, she could see a man in a chair. He seemed to be asleep or unconscious. The Doctor was crouching down, lifting up his eyelids and looking into his eyes.

"Thought I'd find you here," Celia remarked, wondering how she'd be received.

The Doctor turned and grinned at her, much to her relief.

"Bit of a mess," she suggested. "This your doing?"

"He did it," the Doctor replied, looking back at the man in the chair. The man was in his early forties. He had short hair with a bald spot in the middle of the top of his head and a mustache that curled up a bit at the edges. He wore a white shirt and brown pants. His clothes were well made, but well worn, and looked as though they had not been mended in a few years. His clothes hung loosely on his frame as though he had lost weight since they were purchased. His face had the gaunt, haggard appearance of one who had been ill for some time.

"What? Him? He looks unconscious!"

"He is now," the Doctor replied. "He collapsed into this chair after smashing all the mirrors in the house."

"Whatever for?" Celia replied.

"No idea. Isn't it fun?" he asked with a grin. "It gets too tiring to know everything. That's why I travel. There's always something new to learn."

The Doctor picked up an envelope from the desk. It was addressed to Professor Peaselee. He set it back down, scanning the room for information as he did so. The Doctor stepped over to the bookshelf. It was littered with books, and he quickly scanned the titles. "_Cultes des Goules, De Vermis Mysteriis, Unaussprechlichen Kulten, Book of Eibon, Necronomicon_…" he put them down upon the shelf. "The professor has a very distinct taste in literature," he mused to himself. He turned back to the man on the chair. "Can you hear me?" he asked, scanning him with his sonic screwdriver.

At the sound, the man opened his eyes. "Oh, hello!" the Doctor said. "I'm the Doctor. I'm here to help."

The man did not reply. He stared unseeing and unblinking into the room in front of him.

"He's seen lots of doctors," a voice from behind stated bitterly. "The whole lot of them just buggered off! What makes you think you can do anything to help?"

"Well, no harm in trying is there?" the Doctor replied, standing up to meet the newcomer. "I'm the Doctor, this is Celia," he added with a gesture in her direction. "And you are?" he asked, holding out his hand to the boy standing there.

"Wingate Peaselee. Professor Peaselee is my father. I'm all he has left. My mother took my brother and sister with her years ago. Even the servants have gone away because of his madness." He was only about thirteen years old, but his manner seemed much older. He stood almost as tall as Celia. His dark brown hair was cut short, and his deep blue eyes reflected the trouble he felt inside. He was wearing brown wool pants and a similar jacket over a brown vest and white shirt. He had a black tie around his neck, knotted in a floppy bow. He was dressed for school much as any boy of his age in the Edwardian era.

"Tell me about it—um—"

"—Wingate"

"Wingate. Tell me about it," he said persuasively.

"He's been like this for over five years. It happened all of a sudden. One day, he was on his way to class—he teaches—taught—economics. He was in the middle of a lecture when he just collapsed. We took him home and put him to bed. None of the doctors seemed to know what to do. They said they'd never seen anything like it—although—"

"Although what?"

"I don't know, really. It just seems like they _do_ know, and they _have_ seen other cases like this. "I've heard them talking sometimes when they didn't know I was nearby. But they haven't been able to cure him."

"And he's been like this? Frozen? For five years?"

"No," Wingate said, shaking his head. "This is a relatively new development. He was unconscious for 16 hours, and then he woke up. It appeared he'd had a stroke. He couldn't remember his name; he had to relearn how to speak—" he trailed off, not sure how to continue.

"But it wasn't a stroke, was it?" the Doctor prompted.

"I—I don't think so. I don't know," he shook his head again.

"You haven't told them everything, have you?" the Doctor replied.

"Let's go in here," Wingate said, casting a glance at his father sitting, unblinking in the chair. He led the way into a smaller room with bookshelves and a fireplace. A sofa and chair sat next to the fireplace. An easy chair and small table with gas lamp provided a comfortable reading area in one corner. The room was well decorated, but clearly not recently used. Celia noted a thin layer of dust on the coffee table in front of the sofa. The wood floor was covered in a woven rug with a blue and gold pineapple pattern common in New England. The walls were painted a deep brown, and gold silk draperies hung from the window. The room was cozy, but dark. Celia suppressed the urge to pull back the draperies.

Wingate closed the door before continuing to speak. "You're right. I haven't told them everything. I guess I didn't think they would believe me or take me seriously. Will you, I wonder?"

"Try me," the Doctor replied, pulling the chair to face the sofa before sitting down on it. He gestured for the two of them to sit across from him on the sofa.

"It's like he's—clever—" Wingate began. "Like it isn't a stroke, but like he's pretending somehow." He sat with his hands on his knees, looking at the two of them desperately.

"Possession," the Doctor replied.

"That's what Mother said, but not a single doctor took her seriously," Wingate replied, not prepared for this response.

"Something or someone is possessing your father, has been since the day he collapsed, five years ago. Tell me what exactly happened after that day he awoke, and don't leave anything out," he added firmly.

"At first, it did seem as though he'd forgotten everything. But he learned things quickly. Sometimes, it would seem like he was searching for the right word—not because he couldn't remember it—but as though he was translating it from another language. He'd get this look in his eyes when he thought no one was watching. Like he was studying us, copying our mannerisms, learning to blend in. Does any of this make sense?"

The Doctor nodded. "Continue," he said gently.

"Some things were very different. He hated the sight of himself in a mirror. He ordered that all of the mirrors be covered or removed all together. When he looked at his hands for the first time, he shrieked as though in fear. After that, he seemed to—get used to them—but not like looking at them. Like they horrified him, somehow."

The Doctor got up and walked over to the door and leaned against it. "But there's more," he said encouragingly.

Wingate nodded unhappily. "He became very moody. He was impatient with everyone. He wanted to learn—or I suppose relearn—everything he could. He insisted on getting every book he could read. We had boxes of them delivered. He barely slept or ate. Sometimes, he would say something odd, something about the past that couldn't possibly be true or something unnerving about the future, and when people acted alarmed, he would say he was only joking. Sometimes, it event felt like he was trying to control my thoughts. I'm sure that must sound mad to you, " he added hurriedly. "My mother couldn't take it. She left us with my siblings a few years ago. The servants all left as well."

"All of this has been going on for years?" Celia interjected.

"Yes. That was the way of things until about a month ago."

"What changed?" the Doctor asked, still leaning against the door.

"Someone came to visit in the middle of the night. I don't know who it was, but it seemed somehow my father was expecting him. And then my father started hinting that things were going to be different soon. It was as if he were changing. As if the old Nathaniel—my father—were trying to return. He'd seem to wake up as though he'd been sleeping and look around surprised. He'd ask the day and say, 'Five years! Can it be five years?' and then as though a curtain were dropped, he'd return to his more recent ways.

"He's trying to break free of it. He's still in there—somewhere—your father," the Doctor replied. "But the question is, who is controlling him. And why?" He turned the knob on the door and they heard a sudden movement from the other side. He flung it open, but no one was near. Professor Peaslee was sitting unblinking in his chair.

The Doctor returned to Professor Peaslee. He took out the sonic screwdriver again and scanned him, flipping the switch and waving it around in front of the professor. The device made beeping noises, and the Doctor looked at the readings on the panel on its handle. "Who are you? I demand to know who has taken possession of this man!" The Doctor said forcefully.

Silence. Professor Peaslee appeared not to hear. And then, he blinked.

"Professor Peaslee, can you hear me?" The Doctor crouched low to be face to face with the professor.

"You are not like the others," Professor Peaslee said slowly. To Celia, the voice sounded oddly familiar, and she wondered why she should think so, never having heard the man speak before.

"What others?" the Doctor asked.

"The other doctors. They were fools! But you! I can see you are different," the professor's voice was cold.

"He's definitely different," Celia replied with a nod from across the room.

"I am not talking to you," the professor retorted harshly, glaring at her. "I am only talking to you," he said, turning back to look at the Doctor.

"Okay, then," the Doctor said with a shrug at Wingate and Celia. "What should we talk about? I know! How about you answer my questions? Who are you, and what have you done to Professor Peaslee?"

"We have merely borrowed him," the professor replied.

"More like kidnapped!" the Doctor snapped. "And what for? What are you after?"

"Information," the professor replied. "He is a brilliant mathematician and economist. We needed his information for our survival."

"For five years?" Celia asked indignantly.

"It was not our fault it has taken him this long," the professor retorted, forgetting his resolve to talk only to the Doctor.

"I demand that you give him back!" the Doctor snapped.

"Yes. He is of no more use to us. But _you_ on the other hand! _You_ have much we could use!" The professor's voice was hard and determined.

"What are you talking about?" the Doctor asked, stepping away.

"Time Lord? Travelers with a time machine!" Professor Peaslee stated as though reading the information on the Doctor's face. Then he fixed his steely gaze on Celia as though looking at her for the first time.

"Celia, get out of here!" the Doctor yelled, turning to see her. She and Wingate backed away from Professor Peaslee but he had slumped back into unconsciousness.

Nothing happened.

They all took a sigh of relief.

"Okay, that was odd," Celia remarked, digging in her handbag and taking out her notebook. She took out a pen and began jotting down what had just happened.

"What's that?" Wingate asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Oh, it's just my notebook. I use it like a journal. I just write down interesting things that happen—although this is the first time anything _really_ interesting has happened to me."

The Doctor was still bending down by Professor Peaslee. He seemed to be coming around. "That notebook," The Doctor said, looking over his shoulder at Celia, "do you mind if I have a look at it again?" he added casually.

"Sure," Celia replied, handing it to him. He flipped though quickly it without pausing until he got to a spot in the middle of the notebook.

"Hello!" he exclaimed. "This is interesting."

"What?" Celia asked, coming to see what he was reading.

The Doctor closed the notebook and tossed it to her. "Just the cleverness of me, that's all," he replied. "Sometimes, I amaze even myself."

Celia rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Wingate was looking at them bewilderedly.

"Pay no attention to him, Wingate," Celia said, taking the boy's arm. "He likes to think he's the smartest man in the room."

"Only because I am," the Doctor replied, turning back to the professor. Suddenly, he jumped up. "Be right back!" he called, and raced out the door.

"Is he always like this?" Wingate asked, as the Doctor ran out.

"I have no idea, but I suppose so," Celia replied. "We've only just met, but from what I've seen so far, this seems about right."

The Doctor came back a few minutes later with a contraption in his hand. It looked sort of like a pinwheel with a set of gears attached. He set it down in front of the professor and gave it a spin. As the gadget spun, the professor's eyes opened once again. He looked around at them in surprise as though he had never seen them before.

They watched as a glow seemed to surround the professor and then it faded away. The professor's eyes closed and he sank into the chair.

"It's alright now," the Doctor stated, looking at the reading on his sonic screwdriver. "He's back to himself. He's only sleeping. Should be up and around in a couple hours, I think."

Wingate rushed to his father and looked hard at him. "He seems different, somehow. What did you do?"

"Nothing much," the Doctor replied modestly. "The creature was already letting go. I just hastened it along. Wish I'd been able to determine what species it was, though," he added, looking at his sonic screwdriver and shaking his head.

The Doctor wandered around the room, looking over professor's desk was littered with journals and news clippings. The Doctor seemed to touch everything. He picked up books and flipped through them, noticed the photos of the professor and his wife and their children. In the desk, he found news articles regarding the professor's strange case and treatment by specialists over the past five years. He read articles written by the professor—or at least in his name—published while under the possession of the creature. In less than an hour, he had scanned and sped-read every document in the house. He knew more about the professor's strange case than all of the doctors who'd examined him in the past five years put together. But he did not know the name or whereabouts of the being who'd possessed him.

Wingate watched as the Doctor rifled through everything. "Yesterday, I came in to find my father burning his papers in the fireplace," he told the Doctor. "I have no idea why. He stopped as soon as I came in; otherwise, I think he would have burned everything, even the books."

The Doctor sat down in a chair near the window and sighed with exasperation. "They are clever," he complained.

"Who are?" Celia asked, coming to stand nearby.

The Doctor continued on as though she hadn't spoken, "They covered their tracks! It's as though they knew I'd be here. But how could they know that? Unless—"

"Unless what?" Celia asked, growing alarmed by the look on the Doctor's face.

Wingate stood between the Doctor and his father, wondering if he would need to protect him from this seemingly unhinged doctor.

None of them noticed a ball of light about the size of a golf ball float into the house through the window behind them. The light flitted around the room as though searching for something. It made its way toward Wingate, but hovered only for a moment. Then, it closed in on Celia. It seemed to hesitate near her shoulder and then it made its way over to the Doctor. Celia saw it as it sped toward him.

"Doctor, look out!" she yelled, and he turned to see what she meant. It hit the Doctor on his forehead with such force that he fell backward. He struggled to get up, to force it away, but it was stronger than he. For a moment, the light enveloped him in a faint glow. He turned to Celia, "I'm sorry!" he said as the light disappeared and he collapsed unconscious to the floor.


	6. Chapter 5: Stranded

"Doctor!" Celia screamed, and ran to where he had fallen. "He's unconscious! Help me get him to a bed," she said to Wingate. She looked at Professor Peaslee, sitting dazed in the chair, "What have you done to him?" she yelled.

The professor was blinking rapidly, looking around as if for the first time. "What year is it?" he asked.

"Dad? Is that you?" Wingate asked, leaving the Doctor where he lay.

"Help me with him!" Celia demanded. "We can't just leave him lying on the floor!"

Wingate spun around, not knowing what to do first.

Professor Peaslee stood up. "Here, let me help you," he said kindly, stepping toward the Doctor.

"You stay away from him!" Celia yelled, pointing at him.

"Whatever is going on?" the professor asked in confusion.

Wingate turned on Celia. "There's no need to yell at him. He didn't have anything to do with it. Whatever was controlling him is gone. I can sense it."

Celia looked at him doubtfully. "Fine. Help us get him somewhere where he can lie down," she commanded reluctantly.

Professor Peaslee took one end of the Doctor's body and his son took the other. Together they carried him to a room off the living room. There was a bed, a dresser, a chair, and a fireplace. The mirror over the dresser was covered with a cloth. Celia uncovered it. The professor caught sight of his reflection and jumped. He looked down at his hands, stretching them out in front of him.

"This is all so strange," he said, looking from Celia to the Doctor to his son. "I don't know what I was expecting to see, but I'm glad to see it's my reflection in the mirror."

"What happened to you?" Wingate asked, coming to stand near his father. "Are you really your old self again?" he added warily.

"I think so. I feel a bit tired, but I can't figure out why. But who are you? And what has happened here?" he asked, turning to speak to Celia.

"I'm Celia, and this is the Doctor," Celia replied, still trying to make the Doctor comfortable.

"Celia. Nice to meet you. Doctor _who_ did you say?" he asked, taking her hand.

"Just 'The Doctor.' We came here to help, I think. But now, I don't know what to do," she blinked back tears. Wingate came and stood by her side, trying to seem adult and reassuring by putting his hand on her shoulder.

"If there's anything I can do," he said simply.

"Why did they take him? What do they want from him?" she cried.

"Probably for the same reasons they wanted my father," Wingate replied, looking from his father to Celia with some trepidation. "The being said they wanted knowledge for their survival."

"Yes, that sounds right," Professor Peaslee replied. "They are collecting all the knowledge from all the worlds that they can find through all of time for as far back as 300 million years. Now what made me say that, I wonder?" he added, shaking his head.

The professor sank into a chair, still feeling dazed by his recent recovery. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm not making any sense at all!" He wandered out of the room and down the hall.

Celia spun around in hopeless frustration. "He's no good! Now what?" she demanded of Wingate.

Wingate looked at the Doctor and back to Celia. "I'm sorry, Miss," he said, "I don't know if this is any help, but just yesterday, my father was talking about a library."

"A library? Yes? Go on," Celia encouraged.

"Well, this was one of those times I told you about when he seemed like himself for a bit. He said he'd been working in a library, writing his life story."

"Whatever for?" Celia asked.

Wingate shrugged. "I don't know, Miss. He said they were collecting knowledge, if that makes any sense to you. But he said that as soon as he was done, he'd be released."

"But he was gone for five years!" Celia exclaimed.

"My father is a very knowledgable man," Wingate replied with a measure of pride.

"But the Doctor! He's over 900 years old! He knows more about the universe than anyone. If he has to stay there until he tells them everything he knows, he'll be there forever! And I'll be _here_ forever!"

"Nine hundred years old, did you say?" Wingate asked in disbelief. The man in the bed didn't look much over thirty.

Celia nodded.

"But how is that possible?" he persisted.

Celia shrugged. She didn't want to get into it.

"I hardly know what to believe anymore," Wingate muttered, shaking his head. He thought of the long years of his father's strange behavior and of the Doctor's even more alarming behavior. Celia seemed normal enough, he supposed.

"If he's 900 years old, how old are you?" he asked suddenly, really looking at her for the first time.

"Me? I'm twenty five," she replied, forgetting to be offended by the question.

"No one can be 900 years old," Wingate argued. The idea made him afraid. He'd heard about witchcraft being practiced in the woods around Arkham, but his father insisted that these were just stories the locals told to amuse and frighten. However, there were places that made him uneasy, and land where no plants would grow. There were sightings of things too fantastic to repeat in mixed company, and stories of monstrous beasts lurking in the woods or bodies of water. Some of his friends would not dare to go to certain places after dark, and everyone knew that the nearby village of Dunwich was dangerous.

"You're not from Dunwich, are you?" he asked warily, preparing to defend himself against them if she said yes.

"Where?" Celia asked, absentmindedly. She was busying herself arranging the covers around the unconscious Doctor.

When Wingate repeated himself, Celia shook her head. "No. I'm from London," she told him, "and the Doctor's from—well, he's from somewhere else, but not Dunwich or wherever.

"You came all the way from London to help my father?" Wingate asked in awe.

"Yes," Celia replied, trying to smile.

"And he _did_ help my father," Wingate remarked, more to himself than to Celia, "but now I have no idea how to help _him_."

"You and me both," Celia replied, brushing the hair off her face as she spoke. She was determined to buck up under this strain and not give in to despair. She put her hands on her hips and looked around the room. It wasn't much, but it would at least keep the Doctor comfortable. She took out her notebook from her handbag and took a seat near the Doctor's bedside. With a pen from her handbag, she began writing in it everything she could remember about the day. She didn't know if any of it would help, but it at least gave her something to do. When she was done, she set the notebook on the dresser near the door.


	7. Chapter 6: Celia Talks to the Professor

The professor woke up sweating. He'd had a nightmare. It was the same nightmare he'd had every night since regaining consciousness. He got up and threw on a robe. There would be no sleeping now. The moonlight filtered through the window, and he made his way downstairs by the light of it. A lamp was glowing faintly under the door where the Doctor lay unconscious. He could tell by the sounds that Celia was pacing the room, unable to sleep as well.

He rapped gently on the door and she opened it. "You are unable to sleep?" he asked. "Can I get you something? Tea?"

She paused a moment, still unsure about whether to trust him, and then nodded. "Tea would be very nice, thank you." She followed him into the kitchen.

"Another rough night?" Celia asked.

The professor nodded. "I have the most terrible dreams," he admitted.

"What do you remember of them?" she asked, sitting down at the table watching him go about the task of making tea.

"Only bits and fragments. I've had the same dream each night. Every night it's a little bit longer, and after each I remember a little bit more."

"Tell me."

The professor hesitated. He knew that Celia was searching for clues to the Doctor's own collapse. He did not want to give her false hope. "I can only tell you what I have dreamt. I think it must be some kind of madness, perhaps hallucinations or some sort of mental illness. I cannot, will not, concede that anything I am dreaming is real. It cannot possibly be so, for that would mean that everything we understand about the cosmos is wrong!"

Celia looked at him with sympathy. She thought about telling him about the TARDIS, perhaps even taking him to see it. But something held her back. She wasn't sure the professor could handle that sort of shock given his mental state. Perhaps it would be better for him to believe it were a mental illness at least for the time being.

"Then tell me about your dreams," she suggested. "Maybe it will help if you can talk about them."

He sighed and took a seat beside her at the table while the tea kettle heated on the stove. "I dream that I am in the past. As though I were transported back in time."

"How far back?"

"One hundred fifty million years."

"Blimey!"

"Yes, I suppose so." He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. "In my dream, there was a race—a species of creature that lived on this earth long before man. They were fairly advanced—using telepathy to reach into time and space to connect to other species and gain their knowledge."

"What did they look like? What were they called?"

"They called themselves the Great Race from the planet Yith far across the universe," he began.

"The Great Race?" Celia repeated with a laugh. "That's not conceited a bit!"

"They believed that they were superior to every other species because they could communicate across time and space."

"_I guess they never met a Time Lord then_," Celia thought with a smirk. "Did they look human?"

"No," The professor shook his head. "They looked very different from us. They had green scaly skin, and they had longer arms and legs. They were much taller, and their hands were like pincers. That was the most frightening thing." He shuddered at the memory, looking down at his hands before continuing.

"You said something about a library," Celia prompted.

"Yes. We were all working in the library. Our task was to write everything we had ever learned. This way the Great Race could learn from us. They were worried about their survival and wanted to gain all the knowledge they could in order to protect themselves."

"You said 'our task.' That means there were others?"

"Oh, yes. Hundreds of us. At first, we were treated like prisoners. We were kept in cells and only allowed to go to the library. After some time, we were allowed more privileges based on good behavior. We had more freedom to walk about when we weren't working on our writing."

"What did you see?"

"I can't remember all of it. It's as though my brain doesn't want me to remember. There were giant airships, and great cars that hovered over the ground. This all seems like madness," he interrupted himself, "and yet, you seem to have no trouble believing me."

"It's as if I can see it just as you describe," she replied with a smile and laid her hand on his arm. "Go on. Tell me what you remember."

"There were miles and miles of hallways, rooms for the Great Race, and something else. There was something terrible down there. Something we weren't supposed to see or to go near. Even the Great Race themselves were afraid of it. An animal or a beast—some sort of monster in a cage." He shuddered again.

Celia looked at him with pity for the first time. "Well, that was over 150 million years ago. We're safe from it now," she said, patting him on the arm.


	8. Chapter 7: The Professor Goes Exploring

Celia found the professor sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. She approached cautiously, not wanting to disturb him. She hoped he might have some insights to share with her about his condition, but it was clear that he was unable to accept that anything he dreamed was real. At best, he was willing to speak of his illness and mental breakdown, but even then, it was as though he found some details too fantastic to share, even to such a willing listener.

"Are you feeling okay, Professor?" Celia asked, unsure if she should disturb him.

"Ah, Celia. Well, I'm not sure, really," he admitted. "I keep finding some puzzling things from my—illness. It is too much for me to understand," he added, shaking his head.

"Can I see?" Celia asked, approaching his desk.

The professor looked at the pile of articles and diary entries he'd recently discovered and wondered where to begin. He set aside the divorce papers that had made their way to the top of the pile. His poor wife, Alice, had sued for divorce, citing fear for her safety at the hands of the professor as her reason. He wondered about his other children, Robert and Hannah, where were they now? He turned his thoughts away from them. There was no need to share such sordid details with Celia.

Setting that nasty business aside, he picked up the next file on the desktop. "Here," he said, handing it to Celia. "Apparently, in 1909, I traveled to the Himalayas!"

"Really?" Celia asked in surprise. "Why?"

"I have no idea. But I took notes of the trip in my diary. Although the handwriting is not my own. A symptom of my illness, I suppose."

Celia looked at the documents, but could not find anything that would help her help the Doctor. She handed it back, pretending to be interested. The professor handed her another. "This one contains information on classes I took at European and American Universities!" he said in amazement. "I must have been a better scholar than I remember to have taken all those notes."

"And here," he said, growing more animated, "maps of Australia and the deserts! In 1911, I took a camel trip through some unnamed desert in Arabia. In 1912, I chartered a ship and sailed through the arctic."

Celia looked at his journal from the arctic trip, puzzling over the note, _"Returning home disappointed. Still unable to find It,"_ This last word was underlined for emphasis.

"Unable to find what" Celia asked, looking up at the professor from his diary entry.

"I have no idea," he admitted with a shake of his head. "I was also the focus of several talks on secondary personality disorder," he added, digging out another file. "The news reports describe me as mocking the audience and presenters and behaving in a most unbecoming fashion."

"Oh," Celia replied, feeling for him, "that's embarrassing."

"Yes," he admitted. "It seems as though at times, I deliberately tried to provoke them."

"Not you," Celia corrected, "whatever was controlling you."

"Possession?" the professor asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Well wasn't it?" Celia challenged.

"There is no scientific evidence that such a thing is even possible," the professor argued. "Although," he began, and then stopped. He had almost made reference to the members of the occult and priests of the dark arts that he had apparently been consulting with during his illness. He had wanted to say that, it would be nice to think that it was not he, but someone else entirely who had been in these secret meetings. This information had troubled him as much as the dreams and nightmares. He had always been an upstanding member of the community. What possible reason could he have for consorting with such seedy elements? It was no wonder his wife feared him! But then he realized that this was something he wasn't quite ready to share with Celia. It was bad enough for her to know these other details.

Celia had picked up another file. "A trip to western Virginia? It says here that you went looking for something in the limestone cavern in western Virginia. Any idea why?"

"No," the professor shook his head again. "Again, I have no clues. Only what you see here. Wingate tells me I burned many of the documents that might have shed light on my condition."

Finally, Celia got up to return to her vigil by the Doctor's side. "I should get back to the Doctor," she said apologetically.

"Of course. I understand," the professor replied absently. He had turned back to his task of trying to make sense of his illness and was sifting through the boxes of books he'd read while he was ill. There were books on ancient symbols and artifacts. There were volumes on languages and books on ancient cultures. There were several tomes on astronomy and one very thick edition on lore and myths. He spent the day reading them and found that he remembered some of what he must have already read. But what was he looking for?

The professor became determined that he would find the answers to his mental infirmity no matter what the cost. He could no longer think of anything else. He would travel to these places in his notes and determine what purpose had brought him there. He would retrace his steps wherever possible, and locate every scrap of detail he may have left behind.

Perhaps, if he found the cause, he would be able to help Celia and the Doctor before it was too late.


	9. Chapter 8: Emergency Protocols

Celia walked over to the TARDIS and when it seemed no one was looking, she carefully opened the door and went in.

She looked at the console. It glowed faintly as if waiting for the Doctor to return. She wandered listlessly in a circle around it, not knowing what to do, looking for anything that might help her figure out what to do about the Doctor.

Without meaning to, she accidentally flipped a small switch on the console, and jumped back as it beeped and began clicking. Suddenly in front of her stood the Doctor!

"Doctor!" she cried in surprise. "How did you get here?"

"If you are seeing this message," the Doctor said, not quite looking at her, "then you have activated the emergency protocol system. Something has happened to me, and I am unable to deliver this message in person. You must be very careful," he went on, "to keep yourself safe."

"But what am I supposed to do to help you?" Celia asked the apparition in frustration.

"Trust no one," the Doctor began, "Well, that's a bit cynical, isn't it?" he corrected himself, cocking his head to the side as he spoke. "Trust yourself to do the right thing," he amended.

"That's not very helpful," Celia argued as if he could hear her.

"That's not very helpful, is it?" he asked rhetorically, scratching the side of his chin has he spoke. "I suppose I could tell you the bit about having two hearts, in case someone thinks I need medical attention. It's probably not a good idea to draw attention to the fact that I'm an alien. Oh, and I should tell you the bit about regeneration, in case you don't already know that," he added thoughtfully. "When Time Lords die, they sometimes regenerate. This means coming back as someone who looks completely different, but is really still me. Should that happen, you would need to keep an eye on me while I'm still regenerating. The energy has been known to cause problems—well—attract attention, you might say. In the meantime, the security protocols will prevent anyone but me from controlling the TARDIS; just a precautionary measure to keep it from falling into the wrong hands."

"That's it?" Celia asked the apparition. "No instructions for me?"

"I'm sorry I don't have more information for you," the Doctor concluded. "I'm between traveling companions at the moment;" he added with a sideways grimace, "haven't had time to set anything specific into the system."

Celia looked around the main control room for anything that might be helpful, fighting back the despair that was welling up inside her. She turned back to where the image of the Doctor had been, but it was gone. "So that's it," she said, wiping a tear from her cheek, embarrassed that she had let herself cry.

Professor Peaslee met her at the door when she arrived back at the house. "Hello, Celia," he said with a wan smile. "I was just looking for you."

"Why? What's happened?"

"I think the Doctor is running a fever," The professor replied uneasily. "That never happened with me. Maybe this is something else."

Celia dropped her handbag and ran into the Doctor's room. The professor was right. The Doctor was running a fever.

"I thought I should call a doctor," Professor Peaslee said, looking at them worriedly.

"No!" Celia almost shouted. "No," she repeated more calmly. "It is the same thing. I'm sure of it. There's nothing any of those doctors can do for him."

"Whatever you say," he acquiesced. He looked down on the Doctor where he lay shivering. He wished he could help, but he was still trying to understand his own illness.


	10. Chapter 9: The Doctor Speaks

"Doctor, please wake up!" she said, taking his hand. And then, much to her relief, he opened his eyes.

"Doctor?" she cried. "Oh, I'm so glad. I've been so worried about you!"

"Have you?" A pause. "I am sorry," he replied, sitting up.

There was something about his voice that made her suddenly cautious. It wasn't the Doctor's easy way of talking. It was slow and deliberate. His eyes, too, seemed different. It was as though he was studying everything.

"What day is it?" he asked after a moment.

"September 30, 1913. You've been unconscious for three days. You need to eat something. Stay here, and I'll see if I can get you something."

"Thank you—" he paused, searching.

"Celia."

"Thank you, Celia. That is most kind."

Celia stepped into the living room almost crashing into Wingate in the doorway. "Oh! There you are. The Doctor's awake now. Do you have anything I can bring him to eat?"

"That's good news!" Wingate said with relief. "I'm sure we can find something." He led her into the kitchen. "How does he seem?" Wingate asked, trying to sound casual.

"It's hard for me to say, really. I barely know him, and yet—" Celia stopped, trying to identify what had made her uncertain.

"He's not himself, is he?" Wingate asked, not making eye contact as he busied himself with the sandwich preparations.

"No. At least, I don't think so," she shook her head.

"What are you going to do?" Wingate asked, looking at her with sympathy.

"Keep an eye on him for now. I have a feeling that somehow I knew this was going to happen. I can't explain it, Wingate, but it's as though I've been instructed to leave him be, but to keep him from finding the TARDIS."

"The what?" Wingate asked.

"It's the Doctor's—machine," she was reluctant to even tell Wingate about it. "It's how we got here."

"You think the thing that's got hold of him wants it?"

"I think if he found it, it could be very bad for everyone," Celia stated matter-of-factly. "But what am I supposed to _do_?" she asked in frustration. "It's like I keep thinking I'm remembering something, and then it's gone. Like a dream."

Celia brought the sandwich into the room where the Doctor was still lying on the bed. It did not appear that he had moved while she was gone, yet she had the feeling he may have been listening for her at the door. "How are you feeling?" she asked, eyeing him warily from the doorway.

"Sleepy," he replied groggily. "I think I will be fine in a few days," he said, his voice sounding more normal. "In fact, I'm sure of it."

There was something in his tone that send a shiver down her spine.

That night she had a dream. She was wandering through hallways lit with unseen light. The ceilings were high and the hallways enormously wide. She approached a window in the hallway and could see outside. It was raining. The landscape was green and lush and animals she had never seen before were flying through the air. Giant dirigibles floated past. In the distance, she could see mountains, and roads leading away from what must be a city. Giant hover cars raced along it. "This must be the city the professor described from his dreams," Celia thought in her dream. "But he didn't say anything about the mountains!" She puzzled over this for a bit, and found herself wandering along the hallway toward what appeared to be a library. She heard a voice behind her say, "Hello, Celia, I'm the Doctor."

Celia turned in her dream to face the voice, but was not prepared for what she saw. The being who had introduced himself as the Doctor was taller than human, more stalk-like than human, with more arms than human, and covered in distinctly nonhuman, scaly wrinkled skin. At the end his arms were long, black claw-like pincers. His eyes were on the end of stalks coming out from the top of his head. He reached toward her with one long black pincer, and she found herself reaching back. She looked down to see a long black pincer on a scaly arm coming from her own body.

She woke up shivering in fright with the image of the transformed Doctor and her own claw-like hand in her mind.

The dream left her shaken. It felt as though it weren't a dream and that bothered her. Was the Doctor trying to communicate with her from the past? She got out of bed and stumbled down the stairs in the dark. She wanted to see the TARDIS and make sure that the Doctor was still in his room. She peered in on him first. He seemed to be sleeping soundly. She turned to leave and spotted her journal on the nightstand. "How had it gotten there?" she wondered. She picked it up and took it with her, closing the door softly behind her.

The TARDIS was still parked on the lawn of the university. No one seemed to notice it. The moon was half full and the sky was cloudless. Stars and the moonlight glowed all around her. She stepped into the TARDIS and opened the journal, looking back at past entries, hoping for something helpful. And then she turned a page, and to her surprise, she found an entry that she had never seen before!

She turned the page and another. The entry went on for several pages. The handwriting was hers, but she didn't remember ever writing it or even seeing it before. How was that possible?

Just after the sketches she'd made on the sonic screwdriver, there were other drawings. A picture of the TARDIS and symbols in a strange form that she couldn't make sense of, filled several pages. She recognized some of the symbols from in the TARDIS, but she couldn't understand what they meant. She sank to the floor. Her head ached and she felt weak in the knees. She wished more than anything that the Doctor were there to explain it.


	11. Chapter 10: The Doctor in Captivity

Earth. 50 Million Years Ago

When the Doctor awoke, it was dark. He could tell he was in a cell of some sort, but there was very little other information to go on, except he could tell he was not alone. Someone was breathing next to him.

"Hello! I'm the Doctor. What are you in for?" he asked conversationally.

"Uh, hi! I'm Derek," a voice replied in the dark. "Do you know where we are?" He sounded afraid.

"No idea. By the smell and the temperature and the moisture in the air, I would say we are underground. Very far underground."

"What is this place? A prison? I didn't do anything wrong," Derek protested.

"What makes you think prison?" the Doctor replied in amazement. He tried to reach into his pocket to take out his sonic screwdriver and found that his hands did not operate as hands.

"Derek?" the Doctor said, trying to sound reassuring.

"Yes?"

"Don't be alarmed, but I don't think we are in our own bodies."

"What do you mean?" Derek replied, growing alarmed.

"I think we've been swapped out. Our bodies are still out there, going about our lives. Our minds—everything that makes us who we are—has been moved to new bodies down here."

"What makes you say that?" Derek asked querulously.

"Oh, just a hunch," he said, scratching one clawed hand against the other in the dark, "Eventually they will have to turn the lights on for us. And when they do, I want you to promise me you'll stay calm."

Derek nodded in the dark and his head felt strange. It felt bigger somehow and farther away from the rest of his body. "I suspect what you say is true," Derek agreed.

"And Derek?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"I'm going to get us out of here," he stated more confidently than he felt.

Some time later, it was difficult to tell how much later, lights gradually came on around them as though simulating the rising of the sun. The light crept up the walls and soon the room was filled with the glow of a morning sunrise.

Derek was sleeping in the corner. The Doctor leaned over to wake him gently. Derek opened his eyes to see a large green beast standing over him and he started to back away in alarm.

"Now, Derek, you promised!" the Doctor whispered, reaching out an arm to reassure him. Except the arm was longer than human, greener than human, and had a very non-human pincher appendage at the end.

Derek squeaked in alarm, and the Doctor drew back, looking at his arms and pinchers. 'Well, isn't this the most amazing thing!" he said with wonder in his voice. "I never get tired of seeing new life forms!"

"You sound like you're enjoying yourself!" Derek replied in annoyance.

"Aren't you? No. I suppose not. But here we are. We might as well make the best of it!"

Derek looked at him doubtfully.

"Buck up old chap!" the Doctor said, slapping him on the back with his pinchers. "I meant what I said. I will get you out of here. But in the meantime, let's find out what's in store."

They could see that they were in a very high ceilinged room with no furniture at all. The floors were made of octagonal flagstones. There were no windows in the cell, confirming the Doctor's supposition that they were far underground. Through the bars of their cell door, the Doctor could see a long hallway made of the same flagstones with doors of cells similar to theirs. In the walls, the Doctor could see symbols and shapes, some of which he recognized, and some that he did not. This surprised him. Mathematical designs and hieroglyphs were carved into the stonework by way of decoration. Much to his surprise, he found High Galifreyan carved in as well!

"Derek, this is incredible!" the Doctor exclaimed, moving across the floor to read text that was quite high up on the wall. He noticed then that his body was quite different than any species he had ever encountered.

Derek was too busy staring at the Doctor to reply.

"I thought when we were talking in the dark, that you were a human," Derek said with bit of fear in his voice.

"Oh, my mistake. I'm not—" the Doctor began.

"No. I can see that," Derek interrupted.

"Oh, but this isn't me, either Derek; just as it isn't you. Haven't you noticed yourself?" the Doctor said gently.

That's when Derek noticed his transformed body, and started to scream. There were similar cries of alarm in rooms all around them.

"What's happened to me, Doctor?" Derek asked, noticing that the Doctor didn't seem alarmed at all.

"I tried to explain this to you earlier. We've been swapped out. Somewhere, the being that usually lives in this body is inhabiting our bodies, probably pretending to be us so that no one notices the change."

"But why?" Derek asked, looking down at his enormous body and trying to get used to how it moved about. There seemed to be tentacles coming out of the head, and one very large globe with three eyes on the end of a stalk that moved about when he thought about looking at something. That was very dizzying. His feet were not really feet, but more like suckers that grabbed the floor and pulled him along. Where arms should have been were two pinchers on long stalks. At the top of their heads they had slender grey stalks with trumpet like appendages None of them were wearing any clothes.

The Doctor had been reading the inscriptions on the wall when Derek asked again, "Why, Doctor? Why have they kidnapped us?"

"Fascinating," the Doctor was saying as he took in his surroundings.

At that moment, the door to their cell opened and a being similar to their new bodies entered. These beings also wore no clothes, but carried satchels on their enormous backs. They were directed to exit the cell and follow him (_her? it?_ Derek couldn't tell any sort of gender) up the sloping hallway to a room several levels above. The halls were at least 30 feet wide, and hundreds of captives followed their jailor into this room. Some of them had not taken to the transformation well, and could be heard sobbing and shrieking in their cells as they trod past.

"What about them?" Derek asked the Doctor. "Will you get them out too?"

"Everyone of them," he said firmly. "So, come on. It looks as though we are expected to walk that way," he said, gesturing with a gigantic arm down the hall. He took off at a brisk pace and Derek struggled to keep up. Those in the cells began following.

"So many people!" Derek said in awe. "How will you save them?"

"I have no idea," the Doctor admitted. "But that's never stopped me yet. We just need to find what we are up against." He looked around at the walls, the cell construction, the technology. He wondered if they were on Earth. It smelled like Earth—Earth when it was new. But how new? Millions of years? Hundreds of millions of years? Who were these beings and why had they invaded the Earth?

They followed the hallway past all of the cells until they got to an immense room. There were tables everywhere and creatures writing at a feverish pace anywhere he looked. And on the walls—the walls he could see anyway, for the room was so large he couldn't see it all-there were bound volumes. Thousands and thousands of them.

They were greeted by the warden who informed them that their job was to write down everything they knew about everything. They would do this every day for as long as it took to finish. Once they were finished, they could return home. They would write all day and at the end, they would be fed. If they cooperated, they would get more food and more freedom.

"And if we refuse to cooperate?" the Doctor asked.

"You will be punished," the warden stated.

"Why are you doing this?" the Doctor asked. "I demand to know why I've been kidnapped."

"We need your information for our survival," the warden replied.

"Why should we care about your survival?" Derek demanded.

"Because your survival depends upon our survival," the warden replied and then walked away.

"Was that a threat?" Derek asked the Doctor.

"I don't know," the Doctor replied. He was thinking that as a threat, it was a pretty good one, but that it didn't sound like a threat the way the warden said it. It was more of a fact. Who were these beings? How could they be so advanced in some ways and yet so primitive in other ways?

They were met next by the Writing Master. He informed them that he was there to instruct them on how to write.

"What species are you?" the Doctor demanded. "Where are you from? By the Order of the Shadow Proclamation, I demand that you let us go."

"Shadow Proclamation? Never heard of it," the Writing Master replied with a sneer. "We are from the planet Yith. We call ourselves the Great Race."

The Doctor snorted.

"You disagree?" the Writing Master asked in surprise. "Yet you are here, captive to our will."

"Yith, Yith," the Doctor repeated, searching his memory. "That planet was destroyed if I remember correctly."

"Yes, eons ago. Which is why we came here. When it became clear that our planet was no longer habitable, we searched the galaxies for a new home. We sensed that there were inferior beings here that we could replace. This form you see is not our original form, although it suits us well enough here."

"Genocide?" the Doctor asked in angry surprise.

"More like insecticide," the Writing Master retorted. "These beings were nothing before we came. Just big lumbering beasts. They had no sense of their potential, no ability to control their environment. They would have died out from the dinosaurs long ago."

"What you are doing is kidnapping!" the Doctor persisted.

"They get something out of it," the Writing Master insisted, gesturing to the beings writing feverishly at their stations. "Think of the learning that they take back with them. Think of the advances that have come about because of their learning here. Electricity, airplanes, submarines…It's more like a school, really. They are students here, learning all they can while they contribute to the greater learning of others. Why is that bad?"

"Because they don't have a choice in the matter. There might be some who would willingly attend your _school_, as you put it, but you don't give them a say."

"They are not mistreated. We have all the amenities anyone could want," the Writing Master insisted, actually enjoying this philosophical discussion with someone of such keen intellect.

While the Doctor and the Writing Master debated ethics, Derek looked out at the world around them. He saw enormous, round windows, glazed with bars in lattice patterns. It was morning, and a diffused light shone through the windows. He could see giant ferns outside the windows, and a misty rain falling. Beyond the ferns in the distance, Derek could see skyscrapers larger than any he had ever seen before. Some of them stretched into the clouds. A city of unknown origin rose out of the flora.

High arches framed the doors to the room. It appeared to Derek that the room was a library. High pedestal tables were littered with papers, books, and jars of purple metal. Luminous globe lamps added light to some of the tables. Along the walls were shelves of massive bound volumes inscribed with hieroglyphs on their spines.

They spent the first few hours getting instruction from the Writing Master. Some of them took quite quickly to the new task of writing with pincers instead of hands. Others took much longer and needed additional instruction. Derek struggled, but managed to adapt fairly quickly. The Doctor seemed to need no instruction at all.

Each captive was directed to a tall table with a bound volume. There were no chairs, floor coverings, or draperies. They were instructed to provide all that they could remember of their lives on their home planet (Derek realized that not all the captives were from earth, and not all of them were from the same period in time.) If they cooperated, they would be given more freedom, but if they refused or caused trouble, there would be serious consequences.

After several hours, they were given a break. Derek found himself next to the Doctor, looking out the window at the city around them. Each building had its own garden, but plants Derek had never seen before grew in them. Some plants were larger than ones he'd remembered—giant horsetails, palm-like trees, immense ferns, impossible mushrooms, shrubs and conifers. Some gardens had beds of flowers that were artificially colored. The colors of some flowers were difficult to describe. It was as though they changed color when he looked right at them or as though they were translucent. Topiary trees and monoliths with carvings lined the walkways.

The roads through the city were at least 200 feet wide, and hover-vehicles sped along them. In the distance, Derek could make out flying machines and giant flying beasts. Out one window, he could see a building with an enormous flat roof, curious gardens, and a parapet of stone.

They spent the first day writing. Their pinchers were sore and their arms achy. Finally, they were released from duty and allowed to go to the dining hall to eat. The Doctor took a few moments to take stock of the situation. It was clearly bleak. He had no idea where they were or what it would take to get them out. And there were so many!

As the days wore on, the Doctor worried about how Celia was getting on without him, and the captives learned more about their surroundings. It was almost always cloudy and sometimes tremendously rainy. On less rainy days, jungles could be seen in the distance.

"We seem to be located near the Tropic of Capricorn," the Doctor observed to Derek one night as they stood looking out at the stars.

"I wondered about that, Doctor. The stars seem all wrong. The sun seems closer, too. Even the moon looks wrong."

"Not wrong, Derek, just very long ago," the Doctor corrected.

Each day when they were allowed out of their cells and led up the sloping floors to the library to begin again filling their volumes with their life stories, the Doctor and Derek would discuss what they had learned about their surroundings. There were caverns filled with machinery; the Doctor wondered what they were used for.

Derek had learned some disturbing information about beasts that were held captive in vaults several floors below them. "Even our captors are afraid of them, Doctor. They almost never even speak about them. They are held in cells with trap doors held shut with metal bands. And Doctor—"

"Yes, Derek?"

"They believe that someday soon, these beasts are going to escape and destroy everyone. That is why they are working on an escape plan."

The Doctor didn't tell Derek that he knew about this already. He didn't tell Derek that each night while Derek was asleep, the Doctor snuck out of his cell and wandered the halls. He didn't show him the device, much like his old sonic screwdriver, that he'd made one day in secret. He didn't tell Derek any of this because he knew Derek would want to go with him, and he didn't want to risk Derek getting into trouble.

But there was another reason he didn't tell Derek. He felt certain he was running out of time. There was still a faint connection between his body in 1913 and his mind in captivity. And he knew quite well that the being who held him captive had no intention of releasing him. Each day he could feel his captor's mind growing more powerful in the Time Lord's body. If the captor found the TARDIS, then there would be no way out.

A few days later, Derek and the Doctor conferred again. "Have you noticed the towers, Derek?"

"The dark, cylinders?" Derek asked, "I hadn't at first. Maybe because of the constant rain, but yesterday I suddenly saw them. There are hundreds of them—all of the same dark stone—basalt, I think,"

"I find them very curious," The Doctor admitted. "They have no windows, only massive doors. Yet I believe they used to be used—perhaps by the creatures locked away in those cells. The Yith certainly fear the sight of them. And they are far older than even the buildings around us."

One day, the Doctor asked the warden about the hieroglyphs in Galifreyan he could see on the walls.

"It is curious writing," the warden agreed. "No one can remember who wrote it or what it says. It was from a long time ago."

The days went by slowly. The Doctor wondered about Celia and if she had given up on him. He spent his days writing everything he could remember and his nights trying to convince Derek that he would indeed get them all out.

Derek began spreading the word of the Doctor's promise to those in the neighboring cells and before long, word of the Doctor had spread to all the captives. They would speak to him in whispers as they walked to the library or to the dining room. "I want to help," or "Can you really get us out?"

Some of them offered points of information he might find useful. Those who had been there longer were awarded more privileges, and they spoke to him of corridors where the beings went and where terrible beasts were held captive in a cage. They refused to describe the beasts. Those who had seen them were too frightened to describe them. But he learned that it was this cage that was keeping every living thing safe. The Yith (the Doctor refused to think of them as, or call them, the_ Great Race_) believed it was their duty: to protect every living thing from these monsters.

He also learned that the Yith could see into their own future. They knew that something was happening to the Earth that would make it uninhabitable for them. Although they did not know exactly when it would occur, it appeared to be a sudden occurrence like a natural disaster. After this period, no mention of their race could be found until hundreds of thousands of years into the future.

"It puzzles them, that's for sure," one of the captives told the Doctor. "It's as if they are transported into the future."

The Doctor looked at him solemnly and thought about those words.

That night, he told Derek, "Somehow I need to convince them to let me go."

"Let you go? I thought you were going to get us all out," Derek replied in surprise.

"Oh, I will. But they need to let me get to my ship. I can't do that from down here. I can get to it there and then bring it back in time here."

"It would have to be a pretty big ship to hold us all," Derek replied doubtfully.

"Oh, it is. Amazingly big," the Doctor replied with a nod.

"But then how would it fit down here?" Derek asked.

"Well, it's difficult to explain without being able to show you. But you have to trust me."

That was the day Derek decided the Doctor was crazy.

A few days later, the Doctor tried to engage Derek in conversation, but was met with only grunts in reply.

"You've lost faith in me, haven't you, Derek?" the Doctor said, the realization dawning on him. "Don't give up on me quite yet!"

"How can I believe anything you say?" Derek responded hotly. "One minute you're talking about getting us all out of here. The next, you say you have a space ship that can get us all out, but it's conveniently parked far away and only you can get to it."

"Inconveniently parked," the Doctor replied. "You have to understand. We aren't from the same place. I can't get you home in my ship. I can only get the Yith to release you back to your homes. I can only do that if I can convince them that I can save them all."

Derek shrugged. What did it matter, anyway?

The Doctor explored the library on one of his free days. The Yith had no objection to the captive minds looking over the books other creatures had left behind. The cabinets were massive with row upon row of combination locked drawers. They were all cataloged and organized by species, planet of origin, and time. In the stacks for humans on Earth, he found some familiar names. "Leonardo da Vinci!" he exclaimed, "Ah, Leo. I knew him well!" he said to the creature putting a recently completed book into the cabinet nearby. "And look! Albert Einstein. Shoulda known! I wonder if there's anyone else I've met before," he mused. He took down another book, higher up on the shelf and sped through it. He put it back just as his break time ended. "A lot more things make sense to me now," he confessed to Derek as they trudged away at writing their life stories into the books.

"Whose book was that you just put back?" Derek asked curiously.

"Oh, an old friend of mine," the Doctor replied cryptically. "I should have expected it really. The oldest living being in the universe, of course they'd want his knowledge of the earth and how it ended. He was there when the earth went dark."

"How do you know?" Derek asked in awe.

"I was there, too. That was when I met him the first time. He was old then. They must have captured his mind not long after that. I didn't even know who he was then. He was just a face and a name," he added more to himself than to Derek.

Derek just shook his head. He was growing accustomed to the Doctor not making sense.

Every day, new captives arrived. Most of them had difficulty with the transition, and many of them suffered from the fear and stress of adapting to their new surroundings and form.

One day while going through the lunch line, the Doctor struck up a conversation with the captive in line in front of him. "This your first day?" he began.

"Yes. Is it that obvious?" the captive replied. Her voice was surprisingly young.

"Actually, not in the way you would think. New captives always seem a bit put off by the food choices," he responded. "But you don't seem bothered at all." All the food resembled something closer to greenish jellied vegetable matter with few chunks mixed in. The captives generally had difficulty adjusting to the use of their trumpet mouths and pincered hands for eating their meals.

"Well, I've always wanted to travel," she admitted, "and you know what they say—"

"Travel broadens the mind," he finished for her.

She smiled at him. "Exactly. See the world—or completely new worlds, I suppose," she corrected, looking around the room.

"Actually this happens to be Earth," he corrected her.

"Really? I can't imagine Earth ever looking like this!"

"It did. A long time ago," he said softly.

"How long ago?" she asked curiously.

"Fifty million years ago. Give or take a day," he amended, tilting his head as he spoke.

She laughed. "I like you," she said. "You're not like the others around here. You can find the humor in a situation like this."

"So, what's your name?" he asked as they made their food choices.

"Celia," she replied, not noticing the look of recognition in his eyes. "What's yours?" she asked.

"I'm the Doctor," he said simply.

"Not THE Doctor?" she asked in surprise. "Why, I've heard all about you from my—"

"Shh!" He hissed. "Don't let on that we know each other."

"But we don't know each other," she corrected him. "We've never met."

"We have, actually. Or, at least, I have, and you will."

She stared at him, shaking her head. "I heard you were odd," she stated. "Everyone's taking about how you are going to save us all!"

"What's the last thing you remember when you were taken captive?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I was in school. There was a bright light that seemed to float around the room almost—" she stopped.

"Almost—" he encouraged, "go on."

"Well, it seems silly to describe a light as though it was conscious, but it was almost as though it were looking around."

"Yes, I think it was."

"Looking for what?"

"The cleverest beings in the room," he replied.

"But that would mean— I mean, from what I've heard about you, it makes sense for you to be here," she stammered, "but me, I mean—"

"Never thought of yourself as clever?" he asked.

"I suppose. I learn things easily. I like languages. And gadgets. And solving puzzles. Is that why I'm here? To solve a puzzle or something?"

"You are here to write down your life story. Everything you've ever learned, heard, read, or done."

"Well, that won't take long," she sighed. "I'm only fifteen." She paused, thinking it over. "And when I'm done writing it all down?"

"You will be sent back home. Reunited with your old self," he replied comfortingly.

"But what if I don't want to go back?" she asked in alarm.

"But why wouldn't you want to go back?"

"I'd rather stay here with you!" she replied.

"Even like this?" he asked in surprise, waggling his eye stalks and trumpet shaped mouth about, and stretching out his pincered appendages as he spoke.

"Oh, it's not so bad," she responded. "I feel like a giant walking stalk of broccoli. The eye stalks take a bit of getting used to, and the pincers are difficult to maneuver, but it's a small price to pay. And just look out that window!" she added with a gasp. The scenery was lush and green. Enormous ferns grew up to the top of the windows. In the distance, they could see airships flying and hover cars zooming down the roads. Animals she couldn't identify flew in the distance.

"No,"she shook her head. "I'm in no hurry to go back. School's got nothing on this place. Think of everything I could learn here!"

"You two are crazy," a voice from behind them interjected. "All I want is to get out of here!"

"Derek, this is Celia. Celia, Derek," the Doctor said by way of introductions. "Derek is also from Earth—1910— right?"

"Yeah, but I never told you that. How'd you know?"

"Your behavior, your mannerisms, I don't know, a hundred little things, I suppose," the Doctor replied, not wanting to get into it. "Derek's a genius mathematician from New York City."

"How do you know that?" Derek asked, again in amazement.

"I've been reading your book," the Doctor replied, sounding a bit sheepish.

"There are some things that don't make sense," Celia remarked, looking around.

"Such as?" The Doctor asked, enjoying his role as expert.

"What is the point of the library?" Celia asked.

"The Yith are a collective conscious. Much like the Daleks, the Cybermen, the Nestene Consciousness… I could go on," the Doctor boasted. "There are several throughout the universe."

"So?" Celia replied, refusing to sound impressed.

"The library is like a central computer. Once a volume is placed inside the cabinet, it gets entered into their consciousness. Every Yith learns about it at once."

"Okay," Celia replied, accepting this answer. "But, then how come they don't know about space ships. Why don't they just build their own spaceship?"

"Ah!" the Doctor replied, enjoying himself even more. "It was their obvious gaps in knowledge that puzzled me too." He paused for effect, watching the looks on their faces. "They don't know about somethings because someone deleted that information from the books!"

"What? How?" Derek and Celia asked simultaneously.

"Remember how I told you about that friend of mine—the oldest living being in the universe?" The Doctor asked Derek.

"Yes," Derek responded, wondering where this conversation was going.

"He was here for a very long time. And in that time, he was able to insert a sort of virus into their collective conscious that prevented them from learning certain things. He knew that if they had possession of the information on the TARDIS or spaceships, they would want to take over the universe."

"Wait a second," Celia interrupted, a realization suddenly dawning on her.

"Yes?" the Doctor and Derek said simultaneously.

"If you are going to be here until you write down everything you know," she said to the Doctor, "that means you are going to be down here like, forever!"

"That had occurred to me as well," the Doctor replied. "I don't think they have any intention of letting me go, in fact."

"So what are you going to do?" Celia asked in alarm. "The rest of the universe needs you!"

"I have a plan," the Doctor replied, and it involves the two of you."


	12. Chapter 11: Help from the Writing Master

The Elders of Yith met in secret in the Council Chambers across the city from the library where the captives worked compiling their histories. In the Chambers, they were able to discuss matters of State without the rest of the Yith becoming aware.

The room was large, circular, and windowless. It was unlike any room in any part of Yith civilization. Rather than constructed of stone, it was made from a shielding ore that prevented the thoughts within from being communicated to those outside. A stone railing encircled the room with the names of each Council member etched into it at their places along it. An opening in the railing allowed the lead Elder to walk into the center of the room to address everyone in the Council. In the center was a large table and a platform to raise the speaker higher than the audience.

"It appears that our enemy is gaining strength," the Lead Council member announced from the center of the room as the rest settled into their places in the Council Chambers. "The war that was foretold to us has already begun. Reports of battles in remote areas are coming to us daily." He summoned the General who had entered the Chambers, and the General stepped into the center.

"We are facing an increasingly powerful enemy," he said, laying out a map of the region for them to see. The towers they built are providing them access to the surface. Our cages are no longer sufficient. Instead of lying dormant all these thousands of years, they have been gaining strength."

"What about our weapons? Are they no longer useful?" one of the Council Members asked.

"Our weapons are effective, but they outnumber us, and they are drawing nearer to the capital each day," the General replied solemnly.

"We have always known that when this day came, we would not be able to save everyone," the Lead Council member stated matter-of-factly. "Only those who will be of value to us in the new world will be allowed to leave. Those who are left behind will die in the war at the hands of our enemy."

"It is as was foretold," one Council member said.

"The time has come for us to depart," another added.

"Summon the Transfer Master and the Writing Master," the Lead Council member ordered.

The Writing Master arrived a short time later. He had known that the future of the Yith was tied to the transference to a new species, but he did not know that it would happen in his own lifetime. Suddenly, the philosophical debate with the Doctor was not so abstract!

"Your Majesties," the Writing Master said, bowing to the Elders as he stood next to the Lead Council member in the center. "I came as soon as I could."

"You are aware of the plan to begin transfer," the Lead Elder stated.

"Yes. As soon as I entered the Chambers I became aware of the plan," the Writing Master admitted.

"Then you know that you will be among the first to be transferred. Your skills in language will be useful in helping us adapt to our new surroundings."

"And what will happen to the newly captive minds?" the Writing Master asked.

"They will be kept in cages until they are devoured by the enemy," the Lead Elder stated as if this were obvious. "They cannot be allowed out to mingle with the rest or the other Yith will learn of their fate. This must be kept secret."

"That will be difficult to do," the Writing Master pointed out. "The Yith collective conscious will learn of the plan once we step outside the Chambers."

"Not so," the Elder Yith informed him. "The General has developed a device that will allow us to shield our thoughts outside the chambers from the other Yith. Only those whom we deem worthy will be allowed to know of the plan. The others will be left ignorant of their fate." The Lead Elder gestured to the General to come forward and before the Writing Master could object, he was fitted with a band around his left ear.

"Should you remove it," the Lead Elder stated, sensing the Writing Master's objection to this plan, "we will know immediately, and you will sentence yourself to death at the hands of our enemy."

With that, the Writing Master was dismissed to be recalled to the Transfer Room the next day.

That night, the Writing Master wandered the halls of the city, deep in thought. He had enjoyed his conversation with the Doctor. Until he met the Doctor, he had never questioned his own race's self-righteous, self-preservation before. He had believed all other species clearly inferior to his own. The Doctor was a fast writer and had already completed one volume. The Writing Master had spent one day reading the Doctor's volume and learned much about Time Lords and many other species similar to his own.

He stopped in his tracks when he heard commotion coming from several floors below. Down a corridor and around a corner, he found newly created cells for captives. These cells were deliberately placed near the portals to the enemy in the hopes that they would be the first consumed in the war and would buy time for the Yith to escape. These new captives cried out to him in terror, stretching their pincers out through the bars in their cells. The Writing Master stared at them in horror. Now the time had come to save his race and suddenly the idea was no longer so clear cut. The Doctor's arguments rang in his ears. What if this wasn't the right thing to do?

The Writing Master turned away from the cages and hurried to find the Doctor. He knew he didn't have much time before the Elders became aware of his thoughts and actions. He struggled to keep his mind free of any thoughts the Elders might find alarming.


	13. Chapter 12: The Plan

Rumors had been flying about that the beasts had been escaping their cells and finding their way to the surface. Descriptions spread of the vaporous shrieking winds, of massive footprints with five round toes left by invisible beings. Whole villages had been destroyed in the fighting, and many of the Great Race were dead. There had been a series of earthquakes in the area, and the scientists predicted the worst were yet to come. Evacuation procedures were already in progress. Many of the Yith were being transferred with the knowledge that those who were captive would not survive. They took the place of a race of beings and sent those captive minds back into their bodies to die in the war against the nameless things. The Doctor had been powerless to stop them, but he was determined to save anyone he could, and if his plan was successful, then he'd get back to the TARDIS and rescue those who'd been left behind.

Every day, the battles between the nameless beings and the Yith grew closer. The Yith's military used camera-like weapons that produced electricity to kill the enemy as it advanced. The electric current sent them screaming back in pain, and evaporated those who persisted.

Derek didn't think much of the Doctor's plan. It seemed too risky, and he really didn't like involving Celia. It was clear even in her Yith body she was just a kid. But he was overruled by the two of them. They talked it over in the lunch area before going back to work in the library on their life stories. Celia needed to get access to the Doctor's book where he would leave instructions for her. They couldn't risk anyone discovering their plan, so the Doctor would write his book in Galifreyan. She would have to learn it in a hurry and memorize his instructions.

Derek would act as lookout for Celia when she would sneak into the library after hours. The Doctor worked tirelessly on his life story, and it was already taking up several volumes on the shelf. The majority of his writing was in the language of the Great Race, but he mixed his instructions to Celia into the text in Galifreyan, knowing that anyone else reading the text would see only curving shapes and lines that looked like doodling on the page.

Her own volume was nearly complete. She could have returned home days ago, but delayed as long as she could so that she could learn everything she needed before she left.

"I think tomorrow's the day," Celia said, a tinge of sadness in her voice. "I'm nearly up to the present day in my volume." They were all together, the Doctor, Derek, and Celia, in the cafeteria, looking out at the mountains in the rain.

"Good," the Doctor replied, looking at her hopefully. "Then you know what to do."

"I hope so. What if I can't remember?" she asked worriedly.

"We've gone over this a dozen time," the Doctor reassured her. "You will remember what you need to, when you need to. Derek will be finished with his task here soon as well. You won't even need me to save you after all!" the Doctor pointed out.

The Doctor was more relieved at the possibility of getting Celia and Derek back home safe than he wanted to let on. He knew that something bad was going to happen, and it was going to happen soon.

The Doctor's plan involved getting into the transfer room and hooking himself up to the machine without getting caught. He would need to get to the room at the right moment when Celia and Derek in the future were hooking his body up to the machine there. This was the only way to make the transference safely. Timing was everything! If they attempted the transference too soon, it might kill him.

Once he was transferred back into his own body, he could use the TARDIS to return to the city and help everyone get transferred to their proper bodies and then get the remaining Yith to a new planet where they would be able to live in peace. Certainly it was a lofty goal, but he was confident he could pull it off if they managed the first part of the plan.

Of course, that was if the nameless beings didn't get to them first. And then there was the issue of convincing the Yith to stop the transfer of captive minds. The Doctor knew that they were doing this now only to save themselves. The captive minds they were using would be trapped in their new bodies and left behind to die as foretold when the war between the nameless beings and the Yith began.

The Writing Master found the Doctor writing in his book. "I have something to tell you," the Writing Master said, keeping his thoughts shielded from the Elders.

The Doctor looked at him and without speaking knew that the news was bad. "I will find you tonight," the Doctor replied and turned back to his writing.

The Writing Master looked at his book in surprise. It seemed the Doctor was only making circular doodles on the page.

That night, as soon as the guards took their break, the Doctor sprung the lock on his cell with his sonic screwdriver and slipped out into the hallway. The halls were deserted. On his way to the Writing Master's house, he passed the room where the transfers were conducted.

The Transfer Master was busy manning the machinery. The Doctor watched without being observed as a dozen Great Race were led into the room from another chamber and seated into great reclining chairs. The Transfer Master stood behind a console, controlling the process. He flipped a lever and several metal plates descended from the ceiling suspended on thick cables. The plates began to spin and glowing balls of light floated out of their bodies and into space, searching for intelligent beings to capture and replace. The transference took only a few moments. Some of the captives resisted better than others.

The Transfer Master was one of the oldest of the Yith. He had seen much in his lifetime and had been transferred with many captive minds over the years. He had sent Yog to replace Professor Peaslee, and when the Doctor arrived, he had helped Yog take over the Doctor's mind. He had helped Yog transfer into other Yith, something that was forbidden, but was necessary to prolong Yog's life. And Yog had done the same for him. The two of them were over a hundred million years old, much older than any Yith should ever live.

He knew that his name did not appear in the future lists of Yith which meant that he was likely to die while helping others to complete the transfer forward into time. This seemed most unfair to him. He who had given so many years of his life to the service of his species! Although it was strictly forbidden, he began making a plan to transfer with another being on his own, searching for a way out of his fate.

The Transfer Master had overheard the Doctor talking with Derek and Celia. He knew that they planned for the Doctor to escape. He was determined to stop them. If the Doctor had access to his ship, he might be able to come back and stop them in their transference. The Transfer Master, for one, was determined not to die in the war. After listening to their conversation, he developed a plan of his own.

Believing his actions were unnoticed, the Doctor slipped down the hallway to the house of the Writing Master.

"We don't have much time," the Writing Master told him. "They will know that I've broken the law in a moment, and the guards will come to arrest me. You must go to the Council Chambers. You must convince the High Council that you have a better way."

Just then, there was a pounding noise on the door, and the Writing Master gestured for the Doctor to leave through the back door. He opened the door to the guards as the Doctor made his way toward the Council Chambers.

The Doctor believed it was his duty to give them a choice: either stop or be stopped. He found them deliberating in their chambers and entered unannounced.

"Hello," he said by way of introduction. "I'd like to suggest an alternative to your current plan of genocide."

"What? Who are you? How did you get in here? Only members of the Elite council are allowed in here!" the council chair protested.

"Yes, and yet here I am," the Doctor remarked. "I'm a Time Lord if you must know. And I have a way out of here that doesn't involve the transference of innocent beings to be left here to die."

"But the transference has already begun," one of the council members argued.

"It can be undone," the Doctor argued.

"But our future was foretold to us," another council member insisted.

"The future can be rewritten," the Doctor replied.

"It was one such as yourself who told us."

"Can't you see that this is wrong? Taking minds captive for your own use?" The Doctor was trying not to lose his temper. He threw his hands into the air in exasperation. "I can see there's no convincing you. But you need to know this. It's going to stop and I'm going to stop you. You cannot capture the minds of an entire race of beings and send them back here to die. That's genocide."

"You are awfully smug in your pronouncements."

"I have experience stopping beings like you,"

"You would rather we die instead? Isn't that genocide?"

"It doesn't have to go that way. I can find a place for you—a place where you can live as you are now but without the ability to take over people's minds."

"And what then?"

"You live like all the other beings do.

"But we are the Great Race. The greatest beings in the universe. We will not be treated like all the other beings. We are superior."

"You remind me of the Daleks. They believed they were superior."

"Where are they now?"

"Dead. All of them."

"What killed them?"

"More like who. Who killed them, you mean."

"You, Doctor?"

He didn't answer, just looked at them steadily, waiting for the fact to dawn on them.

"Place this man under arrest. He is a threat to our existence." The guards took him away to a cell.

He resisted, yelling at them, "This won't work!"

"Derek! I have terrible news! The Doctor's been arrested!" one of the captives told Derek in a panic shortly after.

Celia overhead the conversation just as she was about the finish the last entry in her journal. She stopped mid sentence and put down the writing instrument.

"We need a plan to rescue him!" she told Derek.

"Nonsense!" he argued. "We have a plan. That involves you and me finishing up what we are doing here. Then, in the future we can rescue him."

"Shh!" Celia whispered. "Not so loud! Someone will overhear you!"

"Celia, just finish your journal!" Derek protested.

"But Derek, we've got to do something to help him!" Celia admonished. "We can't just leave him there! Can't you see he's not well? I don't think the transference works as well with time lords as it does with humans. He could be dying!"

"Well, what do you think we can do about it?" Derek argued. "They've got guards posted outside his cell. We can't just saunter up and say, 'hey, how about opening the cell?' now can we?"

"We could create a distraction," Celia suggested. "We could make them think the elder beasts are attacking. They'd have to go to fight, and while they are gone, we could get the Doctor out!"

"Oh, this is such a bad plan," Derek groaned. "They are going to leave the keys behind while they run off to fight? How are you going to convince them?"

"One thing at a time," Celia retorted. "And keep your voice down! We can't risk someone overhearing us!"

Little did they know that the Transfer Master had been standing around the corner. He had overheard every word, and before they knew it, both Celia and Derek were arrested and thrown into the cell with the Doctor. He was less surprised to see them than disappointed.

"I'm sorry Doctor!" Celia apologized. "I was only trying to help." She felt like crying. She knew she should have followed his directions and completed her entry. Then, she would be back in the future to complete the plan and hopefully rescue him that way.

"I told you it was a bad plan," Derek pointed out.

"It's okay, Celia. I know you meant well," the Doctor replied comfortingly. "But actually, I was on my way to getting myself out just before you came."

"I suppose you managed to get your spaceship down here," Derek said derisively.

"What? No, of course not! Derek what are you going on about?" The Doctor replied in confusion. "I managed to make my own sonic screwdriver—a Yith compatible one as a matter-of-fact," he added proudly.

"A sonic screwdriver?" Derek asked, "What is that good for?"

"Oh, lots of things! You wouldn't believe it if I told you. But in this case, it's very good at opening locked jail cells."

He took out he device from his satchel and motioned the two of them to step to one side. Then, he flipped a switch and it started to hum. To Celia and Derek, the noise sounded like a low hum. To the guards outside the cell, it was debilitating. They sank to the ground, moaning. The door of the jail cell opened, and the Doctor motioned for Celia and Derek to follow him.

"Doctor! What did you do?" Celia asked, alarmed at the guards' reaction.

"I incapacitated them. Don't worry. They'll recover," he replied, maneuvering around their bodies.

"But why did it effect them and not us?" Celia asked as she followed.

The Yith have many senses beyond the five human ones. Even though you are in a Yith body, you don't have the ability to comprehend them.

"But you must be able to, otherwise you wouldn't have known how to set up that device," Derek said as the realization dawned.

"You are quite right, Derek," the Doctor replied.

"Then why didn't it incapacitate you?" Celia asked.

"Because my Time Lord mind resisted it," the Doctor replied matter-of-factly. "Now, let's hurry. Celia, you need to complete your entry. Derek, you need to keep her safe from the guards."

"What are you going to do?" Derek asked as he noticed the Doctor was not going the same direction.

"I'm going to try to save some of the captives' lives. There's a battle going on right now. You can't hear it, but it's getting closer. Unless you hurry with Celia, there won't be many lives left to save!" The Doctor turned and hurried away in the opposite direction. The battle between the Yith army, the captive minds, and the nameless beasts was waging just outside the city.

The Doctor found a hover car parked outside the door. As he made his way toward it, he was stopped by the Yith army general. "Stop! How did you get out of jail? You were under arrest!"

"Yes, about that. I let myself out," the Doctor admitted.

"Let yourself out?" the general replied in amazement. "How?"

"With this," the Doctor said, showing him the sonic screwdriver. "You can arrest me again if you like," the Doctor added, "but I think it might be better if you let me help you."

"With that?" the general asked doubtfully.

"Yes. With this. It can kill if needed. Although I'd rather not," he admitted. "I'd rather try to reason with them."

When the Doctor and the general arrived, several of the Yith lay dead in the street. A wave of cold air flooded past, and a howling wind swirled around them. The Doctor could feel the mind of the creature as it enveloped them. He could feel cold tentacles grasp at him, wrapping around him to suffocate him. Before it could succeed, the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and flipped a switch, changing the settings. It sent out a jolt of electricity that filled the air and sent the creature howling back into the wind.

"I don't want to kill you," the Doctor yelled. "But you cannot keep attacking these creatures. They've done you no harm!" But the creature didn't seem to hear him. It retreated a bit, a vaporous form, shifting as though in the breeze. Then it seemed to be regrouping for a second attack.

"It's no use, Doctor," the Yith General replied. "We've tried for years to communicate with them. They either can't or don't want to. All we've been able to do is contain them. And now, with the earthquakes, their cells are breaking open. My military is stretched too thin. We have to retreat to the city. "We have one last weapon we can use. It will take out everything within a five mile radius outside the city."

"Everything? Even your own people?" the Doctor replied in alarm.

"Unfortunately, yes. Anyone outside the city will be killed with the electric jolt we're going to send."

"But there are captive minds out there, too!" the Doctor protested.

"We cannot save everyone if we hope to save anyone," the general stated flatly.

"And what about you?" the Doctor asked the general. "What will this weapon do to you?"

"It is the price I have to pay to defend my people," the general replied.

"Not if I can help it," the Doctor argued."

That afternoon, as Celia expected, she wrote her last words in her journal and almost immediately, the transference began. She woke to find herself in her bed, her worried parents holding vigil. She had no memory of what had happened and where she had been. She had been "gone" for six months.


	14. Chapter 13: Rescuing the Doctor

The next day, Celia took another look at the journal. She was surprised to find instructions to mail a package special delivery. She found the materials in the TARDIS and set to work, worrying that she'd already lost too much time.

She suddenly remembered everything about the Doctor's plan and their time in captivity together. She had serious doubts about the plan working. A lot depended on things happening that were out of her control. She knew she had to keep Yog away from the TARDIS and to keep him from knowing she knew who he was. It was clear he was trying to find a way to get to the TARDIS without her knowing. Twice she saw him sneaking out of the house. He didn't know where to look for the TARDIS though. She was glad it was parked among the trees on the other side of the park near the campus.

Celia decided to start sleeping there at night, and so that night she sneaked out of the house and went to the TARDIS to keep vigil. Celia heard a noise outside the TARDIS. A car pulled up on the street. A door slammed. Low voices in a conversation that she couldn't quite hear. She gathered herself together, suddenly frightened. The Doctor's message had been to protect the TARDIS, not even about himself.

Celia stood in the moonlight, looking out over the lawn of Miskatonic University toward the direction of the house on Crane Street. She thought she had seen a shadow move across the grass near the trees, and she wondered who might be out there. She thought about Wingate's fear of going out after dark and his admonitions to her to be careful and to avoid certain parts of town. She shook her head, the creepiness of the place was getting to her. The furtive look on the faces of the strangers that she met, the overwhelming sense of fish—not just the smell of fish, but something fish-like about the people.

"But who was out there?" she wondered again, fear gripping her heart.

She crept cautiously out of the TARDIS, keeping close to the side and in the shadows as much as possible. When she returned to the door of TARDIS, no one was in sight. Had she just imagined it? There were so many unsettling things about this place, it would be easy for her imagination to run wild.

She opened the door to the TARDIS and stepped inside. The control panel was dark. A faint glow came from underneath the panel where the heart of the TARDIS lay. She sighed, preparing to curl up and try to sleep on the bench when to her surprise, the door opened.

The Doctor stood in the doorway, and Celia's heart went still.

"At last," he said, looking around him. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time," he added in a sort of hiss.

"You can't be in here," Celia replied in alarm. "You're not really the Doctor!"

"You're right. There's no need to pretend any longer. My name is Yog. And I am taking control of this ship!" he said confidently.

"Well, you can't have it!" Celia replied more confidently than she felt.

"Who's going to stop me? Yog hissed, taking another step toward the control panel. "You?" he said with a laugh. He grabbed her arm, twisting it painfully behind her back and forced her to the door.

Celia struggled against him, crying out in pain, "You're hurting me!" she tried with her free arm to grab her sonic screwdriver from her pocket, but it was just out of reach.

Yog opened the door to push Celia out, but was met by a stranger in the doorway.

I thought you'd never get here," Celia said to the stranger, taking advantage of Yog's surprise to wriggle out of his grasp, grab her sonic screwdriver from her pocket.

She aimed it at him and pushed a button.

It made a high pitched noise and it seemed to her that Yog appeared different. It was as though she could see Yog as he really was like an image superimposed on a screen. He paused mid-step, but then staggered forward.

"That's not going to stop me," Yog replied with conviction.

The stranger in the doorway had one in his hand, looking at in in surprise. "What?" he asked, "What is going on?"

"Flip the switch!" Celia yelled, and the stranger turned a switch on the sonic screwdriver. The two devices reacted exactly as Celia hoped. The sound the two sonic screwdrivers made was nearly deafening. Yog staggered, holding his head with his hands and then collapsed on the floor.

"Oh, no! I didn't kill him did I?" the stranger asked running over to where the Doctor lay.

"No," Celia replied, having reached him first. "He's just unconscious. But we need to get the Doctor back before Yog wakes up."

"How?" the stranger asked, looking around at the TARIS for the first time. "Wait," he said, stepping out of the door and then walking around the outside before coming back in.

"Derek?" Celia called.

"Wait," the stranger replied. "How'd you know my name?" he asked, poking his head back into the TARDIS.

"We met before. Don't you remember?"

"We were back in time as captives. I remember now!" he asked, cautiously coming inside. "You're Celia? You were just a kid—weren't you? You're not a kid any more!"

Celia blushed, aware of the compliment. She turned back to look at the body of the Doctor, unconscious on the floor of the TARDIS. "I feel like there's something we're supposed to do, but I don't know what," she added in frustration. "I had a journal I'd kept for years—ever since I was fifteen. And in the journal, I found some notes I had never seen before. The pages had been blank! But now, there's notes and pictures. I can't even make sense of it all!"

"Can I see it?" Derek asked, holding out his hand for it.

"Of course! Maybe you can make sense of my note," Celia replied, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Derek flipped through the journal. "Look!" he exclaimed. "You've got it all right here! Instructions on how to bring the Doctor back. But we've got to work quickly! He's going to regain consciousness any moment."

The two hurriedly scanned the notes, but Celia no longer had to read them. She suddenly remembered everything she'd written after her time in captivity. She remembered every moment of that time with the Doctor and Derek as well.

"It's nice to finally really meet you," Celia said shyly, as she assembled the contraption that would bring the Doctor back. It was similar to the machine that the Doctor had used on the professor, but because the professor had been ready to return, that machine needed less power. The one intended to bring the Doctor back was going to have to be bigger and more powerful.

Derek was digging in a bin under the console, looking for a part. "Yes, it is," he replied, smiling at her. She was no longer the 15 year old kid he'd met. She had grown into a beautiful woman.

"How old are you now?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't mind the question.

"Twenty five," she said with a smile. "And you?"

"Twenty-six" he said, glad to be older still.

"I'm glad you got the sonic screwdriver, and even more glad you followed the instructions," Celia said, hooking up part of the machine as she spoke.

"You sent this to me?" Derek asked, looking at the sonic screwdriver in his hand.

"Yes! I followed the plan just like the Doctor said. I made the screwdriver, mailed it to you and hoped you'd follow the directions in the note. If you hadn't, everything would have failed."

"You made this?" Derek asked in surprise.

"Why is that so surprising?" Celia asked defensively. "First the Doctor, now you. Yes, I made it. I copied the instructions from the Doctor's book in the library—both sets. The first one I made was made deliberately wrong so that it would react with the Doctor's when I met him again. It was programmed to go off when it came near the TARDIS. Then, when I saw the new instructions in my notebook, I followed them, and made yours. It was set to enhance the signal from mine to incapacitate Yog.

Derek just shook his head.

"Sorry! I'm just not mechanically inclined," he admitted. "I have to admit when I received it in the mail yesterday with a message to take the train from New York here, and look for a blue police box, I thought it was some sort of prank. I had no idea what it was all about at first, but as soon as I saw you with yours, it all came back to me."

They got the dials working as they talked. Celia tried to explain what life was like in England in the year 2035. "Maybe when we get the Doctor back we can go there and I can show you around London," she suggested, blushing a bit as she spoke.

"That sounds great!" he agreed enthusiastically.

The machine began to whir and spin. The Doctor struggled against the forces as he regained consciousness, and both Derek and Celia had to hold him down. Then, after a few moments, he stopped struggling. Celia and Derek looked at each other in alarm. Celia couldn't even tell if he were still breathing.

"Oh, my god! Is he okay?" she cried, laying her head on his chest to hear his hearts.

As she did so, he opened his eyes and she jumped back in alarm.

"Hello!" he said with a smile, "miss me?"

"Doctor is it you?" Celia asked, still feeling afraid.

"Of course it's me!" he said with a grin, jumping up as though ready for action. "You did it! And just in time, too! I think if Yog had gotten ahold of this machine, we would have been in big trouble.


	15. Chapter 14: The War

The Doctor rushed to the control panel and began flipping switches. His movements were so deliberate that Celia wasn't convinced he wasn't still Yog.

"Doctor! What are you doing?" she asked in alarm.

"Taking the TARDIS back in time," he said as though it were obvious. "We have to get back to save the rest of the captives! The general was about to use a weapon that would kill everyone within a five mile radius—Yith, their captives, the nameless beasts, everyone! I intend to stop them!"

"Oh!" Celia replied, feeling bad that she'd forgotten all about them.

"I promised them I'd get them out, and I never break a promise," the Doctor continued with emphasis, flipping levers and spinning dials as he spoke.

"Right!" Derek replied, trying to keep out of the Doctor's way as he moved around the console. "What can we do to help?"

"You can keep an eye on her," the Doctor replied, gesturing toward Celia.

"What? Don't be ridiculous!" Celia retorted. "I don't need looking after!"

The Doctor didn't reply. He had seen something the rest of them hadn't. He didn't want to say anything yet, but he knew that things were not quite back to normal.

When they arrived, the battle had spread to inside the city. The army was backed up against an advancing invisible force. The general and his soldiers were preparing their final assault before arming the weapon that would kill them all. The TARDIS materialized in the middle of the chaos.

"Who are you?" the general asked, staring at the strangers as they opened the door.

"I'm the Doctor," the Doctor replied, "We met just a bit ago, actually. Look a bit different now, I suppose. But that's not all that unusual for me. These on the other hand, are Derek and Celia," he added by way of introductions.

"You've picked a bad time, Doctor!" the general replied. "We're losing! In just a few moments, the whole place is going to get a jolt of electricity that will kill us all."

"Yes. That's why I'm here. I want to get everyone into the TARDIS as quickly as possible."

"What?" the general asked in disbelief. "In there?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Derek and Celia, go round up as many as you can. Some of the newly captives will be quite frightened. Try to keep them calm!"

Derek and Celia ran off down separate corridors looking for as many Yith they could save. The Yith stared at them in something close to horror, not knowing if these were a new form of the enemy or some other horrible creature. With some difficulty, they were able to convince the Yith that they meant them no harm and that they should follow them quickly.

When Celia returned to the TARDIS, the Doctor had dragged from it coils and cables and was setting them out in a circle around the room.

"Celia, I need your help!" the Doctor yelled at seeing her return.

"Yes, sir!" she said, saluting.

The Doctor made a face at that, and dashed back into the TARDIS, dragging out more coils and equipment.

"Here, take this!" he said to Celia, handing her a coil of wires.

She held the coil, waiting to be told what to do next. The Doctor turned to rush back into the TARDIS.

All around them, the Yith military stood, aiming their weapons at any sign of the enemy. They crowded in closer toward the TARDIS. "Don't just do something, stand there!" The Doctor barked at one of the soldiers.

"What?"

"You're not helping. Get out of the way!" he said impatiently. The soldier stood back, watching this new creature take control of the situation.

Suddenly it was clear that the enemy was approaching in large numbers. The wind whistled around them, shrieking and hissing vapor seemed to pour in from every gap in the windows and under doorways.

"Don't just stand there, do something!" The Doctor yelled at Celia.

"Me? What am I supposed to do? You're the one who claims to have all the answers!" she yelled back, holding the roll of coils as she turned to him.

"That's because I usually do!" he barked back.

"Then you think of something!" she retorted.

"I'm trying!" he insisted. "I don't like to be rushed," he added petulantly.

"Well, I'm sorry Doctor, but they seem to be on a different time table than you are. And if you don't get us out of here soon, we're all going to die!"

"Don't you think I know that?" he argued.

"I don't know. You have a different view of dying than the rest of us!" she yelled over the rising wind.

"I don't think you're helping," Derek interjected to Celia as he led a group of captives into the room. They scrambled into the TARDIS as quickly as they could.

The Doctor took the coils from Celia and began stretching them out across the circle of cables he'd made around the TARDIS. He flipped a switch, and the air crackled and fizzled.

"What are you doing, Doctor?" the general asked.

"Creating a containment field," the Doctor replied. "Something that will send them back into their cells for another hundred million years if necessary."

"How does it work?" the general asked, genuinely curious at this new technology.

"I've programmed this device," the Doctor replied, referring to the box in his hands, "to match the structure of the creatures. Once I get it fully charged, it will send out a pulse that matches their makeup. Then, it will transport them back into their cage with a more highly reinforced containment system," the Doctor informed him.

"How long will it take to charge it?" the general asked as the whistling and shrieking of their enemy increased just outside the walls.

"Too long, I'm afraid," the Doctor admitted, running his hands through his hair as the realization dawned. "It was a good plan though; just ran out of time!"

"You get everyone to safety, Doctor," the general said, gesturing toward the TARDIS. "Let me do my duty. I will stay behind and make sure the device is activated properly."

"General, I can't let you do that," the Doctor argued.

"I don't see how you have any choice if you want to save everyone," the general retorted. "I know you didn't agree with my methods, and I know we didn't see eye to eye on how my people used captives to save themselves. But let us agree on this one thing!"

The Doctor looked at him solemnly and nodded. He turned toward Celia and Derek and yelled at them, "Get into the TARDIS!"

The last they saw of the general, he was firing his weapon at an advancing wind, buying them time until the Doctor's containment field was fully charged.

The Doctor flipped a switch and the TARDIS dematerialized from the room.


	16. Chapter 15: The Professor's Search

The professor was not completely convinced that he was not mad. First, there was this doctor who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Then there was the young woman who was with him and yet seemed to know nothing about him. And then suddenly they were gone! They were gone without a word to anyone. It was as if they had never been there at all. He was afraid to even mention them to Wingate in fear that perhaps they had been another manifestation of his madness.

How were they different from the strange visitor who had appeared out of the night with a strange machine? He had no recollection of this man, himself, but Wingate had told him about how the man had arrived and set up a machine and then how they had burned nearly every piece of paper that could have provided information as to his illness.

And then there were the dreams! Terrors that filled his nights with visions of vast rooms, of nameless beasts, and of pincered hands and an enormous body. He dreamed of impossible machines that flew through the air, of underground caverns, and of a vast library filled with volumes written by captives. In more than one dream, he was placing such a volume in a drawer in a cabinet. His fingers twitched in his sleep as he worked the lock on the drawer.

In his waking hours, he began to research where he had been when in his possessed state. He retraced the steps his form had taken, trying to determine what he had been looking for and what his intent had been.

He found books in libraries that he was embarrassed to learn he had checked out, and notations in margins with corrections to the texts in his own handwriting. He seemed to be familiar with languages he had never learned.

He attempted to return to teaching, but could not focus on the subject matter. Economics no longer interested him. He took up the study of psychology in order to better understand his own mental breakdown, but did not go back to teaching. He became a man obsessed with finding the answers to his previous condition.

He found others who had suffered similar attacks of the mind, and those who would agree to meet with him shared the same visions, dreams, and memories—if that was what they were. It was like a new form of madness—this desire to find the answers to what had afflicted him.

He wrote articles in psychological journals about his attack, describing his dreams and the pseudo memories—he refused to call them memories. Some in the psychology field derided his articles, but not all. His study was filled with scraps of information that he could gather. Fear gripped his heart continually with each new bit of evidence. If it were true that he had been spirited back in time, then everything he had ever known about the universe and laws of time and space were wrong! He was not sure which way to hope. Would it be better that it was all just a fit of madness? Then, there would be no danger of the nameless monsters breaking forth from their trapdoor covered cells. No worry that they would escape to consume everything. But if it were true! What if in a cavern somewhere deep beneath the earth there were evidence of such an ancient civilization? An if there were evidence that he himself had been there! What would the scientific world say to that?

He barely ate. He rarely slept. The frustration of not knowing fought with the fear that it might all be true, and turned his mind away from everything else.

The years wore on, and Wingate took up the study of archeology, as a way of assisting his father in the study of ancient ruins.


	17. Chapter 16: Who Are You?

The Doctor, Derek, and Celia spent the next several hours reuniting the captive minds with their proper owners. The Yith returned to their own form reluctantly at first. Once they realized that the Doctor did not intend to send them back to die in their proper time, they came more willingly.

Their next stop was a planet where the Yith could live the rest of their lives in peace without the ability to capture any more minds. This was a blow to them, but they realized they were no match for the Doctor, and they owed him their lives.

The last Yith had stepped off the TARDIS, and with a sigh of satisfaction, the Doctor closed the door on the TARDIS and turned to face Celia and Derek. "Should I drop you off back home?" he said to them with a mischievous grin.

"I'd like to stay on a bit, if you don't mind," Derek replied. "I never was much of a traveler until now. I'd like to see what's out there."

"You already know my answer," Celia replied solemnly.

The Doctor was looking at Celia. His gaze was piercing and his eyes were dark. "Yes. I think I do," he said with a heavy heart. "Who are you?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?" she answered, startled by his question. "You know who I am."

"I don't like being lied to," he said angrily.

"You lie all the time. It's okay for you, but not for anyone else. Even your name is a lie," she retorted. "That's _your_ question isn't it? Who are you, Doctor?"

Derek turned to stare at Celia, the realization dawning on him more slowly. "What have you done with Celia?" he asked angrily, grabbing a mallet from a bin under the console.

"No, Derek! No violence!" the Doctor ordered.

Yog smiled, and it seemed creepy on Celia's face. "The Doctor is correct!" he hissed. "If you hurt me, you're really hurting her."

Derek thought for a moment and then put down the mallet. Yog picked it up, and slammed it into Derek's chin, sending him to the floor unconscious.

"It was all very clever but it ends now," the Doctor replied, crouching down to see if Derek was okay.

"Unlike you, I'm capable of much more violence, Doctor. I won't give her up unless you do what I ask," Yog said.

"I don't do well with threats," the Doctor replied, reaching into his pocket for his sonic screwdriver.

"If you force the connection to break, you risk trapping her there," Yog said. "You know that for yourself. It nearly killed you,"

The Doctor put the sonic screwdriver away.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want your ship," Yog said simply.

"You can't have it," the Doctor replied angrily. "Where is she?" the Doctor demanded.

"Back in the city! While she was busy saving you, I trapped her mind there!" he sounded positively gleeful at having bested the Doctor. The tone sounded strange coming from Celia's mouth.

The Doctor sighed. "Let's go," he snarled and pulled the lever on the console setting the TARDIS in motion.

They arrived back in the midst of chaos in three floors below where they had just been. At any moment, the general was going to flip the switch and kill every living thing. Bodies of many of the Yith were lying all around, some dead, some dying. The Doctor stepped over one, looking for the features of Yog as he remembered them. "Celia!" he called out. "Celia? Can you hear me? It's the Doctor!"

Yog took the Doctor by the arm and led him down a hallway. "The transfer room is this way," he said. "You get the machine set up and I'll go get her."

The Doctor stepped into the room, and Yog took off running down the hallway. Screams and cries of the injured could be heard and through the windows, the Doctor could see brown air. Earthquakes and volcanic eruptions filled the air with dust. Mass extinctions were taking place. The air was hot and everything seemed brown.

The Doctor began setting up the machine to make the transfer between Celia and Yog. He wondered where Yog had gone to. The noises had stopped outside in the hall. And then, a screaming wind seemed to enter from every corner of the room through the venting system. Instantly the Doctor knew he was under attack. He flipped open the console and began switching power to the electrical grid. The howling wind grew louder and a vaporous being appeared in the room, looking to consume anything in its path. It reached out a tentacle-like arm to grab the Doctor's neck just as the Doctor slammed his sonic screwdriver into the console sending a bolt of electricity through the air and into the being. The air sizzled and cracked in the vapor and then, with a shriek that could have been pain or could have been the wind, the being was gone. The Doctor wiped his brow and looked around to see if there were any others as he disengaged his sonic screwdriver from the console.

It was clear to him that Yog was not coming back. He opened the door and looked out into the corridor. It was empty of living beings, but littered with those that had died from the beast or from the disaster from the earthquake. A trapdoor that had once sealed in the beast was broken on its hinges. The Doctor wondered how the general was coming along with the device. Surely it should be armed by now? He would have needed to flip the switch to set the device in motion. What if he'd been attacked before it could be activated?

He followed the path of the hallway up into the city. It was mostly deserted. Yog was nowhere to be found. It worried him that Celia could be down there, trapped forever because of him. Maybe she was already dead. What was this game Yog was playing? He wondered.

And then he realized the trap. Yog had led him there to die. He would take the TARDIS away to use on his own. He couldn't do that in is own form, he would have to use Celia's body to fly her. But how would he know how to fly her?

Oh! he realized. He'd written it all down! All those details in all those books during his time in captivity had been slightly wrong on purpose, but now Yog had Celia's journal. And _that_ had all the right information. Yog must have read it and decided he could fly the TARDIS. The Doctor knew he needed to find Celia. Time was running out! The earth shook as another earthquake hit and parts of the ceiling fell, nearly hitting him in the head. He staggered across the bucking and buckling ground slamming into a wall as he hurried upward along the corridor, calling for Celia at every turn.

He had nearly given up. There weren't many rooms left when he came upon the jail. The cells were empty except for one. She sat in the corner, looking down at her appendages and didn't see him approach.

"Celia?" he asked, wondering if she was conscious.

His voice sounded strange in that place. It took a moment to register in her mind that there was someone talking to her, she'd lost a lot of blood. It was thick and green and nauseating to see.

"Celia," he said again. "It's me. The Doctor. "I've come to get you out."

"Doctor?" she said slowly. "Oh! I remember you! We met—and then it seems as though we didn't meet! It's all so fuzzy." She struggled to get up and coughed in the dusty air.

The Doctor had already taken out his sonic screwdriver and was working at opening the cell. "How long have you been locked up?" he asked.

"Not long, I think. I remember I was in the TARDIS, we were bringing you back, and then something hit me on the head. The next thing I knew, I woke up here, looking like this!" she shuddered at the sight of her pincers for hands. "You shouldn't have come back for me!" she said. "I think we're going to die here." She took a deep breath to keep the fear from overtaking her.

"Yes, well, I agree that things are not ideal," the Doctor replied, trying to sound casual. "I do think it's best if you get reunited with yourself, don't you think?"

"It's too late," she replied, shaking her head. The ceiling had collapsed in the latest earthquake, and a chunk of the wall had trapped one of her appendages. "I'm trapped in here, Doctor. And I don't think there's time to get me out."

"No, it isn't too late, but we've got to hurry!" he contradicted, opening the cell door and working at freeing her trapped arm.

"But where is Yog? I expect he must have tricked you to get at the TARDIS," Celia pointed out. The Doctor didn't reply. He busied himself with freeing her limb from the chunk of ceiling. "You don't seem very worried," she added.

"About the TARDIS? Not a bit," he lied. "About getting us out before that beast gets in? A bit," he admitted, with a shake of his head toward the venting system.

"What makes you say that?" she asked, growing alarmed.

"I can hear them coming. I don't think you can hear them yet. But if we stay here long enough, you will. Now let's go! How I wish you could run!" he said in exasperation. The howling wind was getting louder and he didn't know if he could fight it—or them—off with just the screwdriver. They hurried down the corridor.

"But how do you know that the TARDIS is still here?" she asked as they made their way along the route.

"Before I left, I put a lock on the controls. It might not keep him from taking control completely, but it will slow him down a bit."

"Oh, you really are a genius!" she said excitedly.

"Well, I would say I agree with you, but I've just led us into trouble," he said with a shake of his head.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking at him in alarm.

He pointed to a footprint in the dust from the cave in. "_That_," he said. It was large with five round toes.

She stopped, holding her side and wincing. "But that means, it's up ahead of us," she said, the realization dawning on her. "If it gets to Yog before we get to him, I'll be—" she paused, searching for the right words, "stuck this way!"

"Shh!" he hissed, waving his hand at her to stop talking. He reached into his pocket and took out the sonic screwdriver, aiming it at the ground near her. He motioned her forward and they made their way more cautiously toward the TARDIS.

They could see the vapor in the air around them, it seemed to be increasing in intensity. They were trapped. The Doctor aimed his screwdriver at the mist and flipped the switch. It sent a pulse into the mist, but they only regrouped with greater intensity.

"What now?" Celia asked as the air swirled around them, pulling at them, suffocating them.

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, a massive pulse burst through the air.

The mist shuddered and swirled, and then as if being sucked into the ventilation system, it was gone!

"Doctor, what happened?" Celia asked, looking around.

The general stood before them with his weapon under his arm. "I thought I heard your machine. Couldn't imagine why you might risk everything to come back when you knew I was going to flip that switch at any moment!"

"You're alive!" the Doctor said joyfully.

"Yes, you just about missed seeing me," the general replied dryly. "But now I need to get the machine switched on." He turned back down the corridor to return to the room above.

The Doctor looked at him, looked at Celia, and knew he had to save her first, but maybe there would be time to save them both.

They found Yog still trying to get it running. He jumped when the door opened and the two of them stepped in.

"Hello, Yog," said the Doctor cheerfully. "You didn't stick to the plan," he pointed out.

"I—uh—thought I would try to get this thing running and then come and get you. I see you've found her," he added without much enthusiasm.

"I did," the Doctor agreed. "And now it's time to change you two back," he stated, taking a step toward Yog.

"I refuse," Yog replied.

"You don't have a choice," the Doctor replied, shaking his head with a smile. "The TARDIS is already making the change." He stroked the console. "You knew it all along, didn't you Old Girl?" he said gently.

"What?" Yog said, looking at his hands. He looked at his old body and could see a light coming from it toward Celia's. "NO!" he yelled. "You can't do this! I had plans! I spent my dying years working for this!"

Yog's body was dying from the injuries in the jail cell. Celia hadn't wanted to tell the Doctor how close she felt to death. Her internal injuries had been too great when the wall collapsed upon her.

Celia could feel her mind leaving Yog's body and slowly morphing back into her own, and then she lost consciousness and collapsed into the Doctor's arms. She woke up a few hours later on a bench in the control room. The Doctor's coat lay across her lap. Yog lay on the floor of the TARDIS.

"What happened to him?" she asked, looking at Yog.

"He just passed away a moment ago, I'm afraid," the Doctor replied with a bit of sadness. "The injuries you sustained when the wall fell on you were too much."

"And the general?" she asked, thinking about how he'd sacrificed his life to save them all.

"Oh he's fine. I took him to his new home to be with the others," the Doctor said without boasting.

"What about Derek?" she asked, remembering that he had been with them.

"He's recovering from a blow to the head. He's had a bit of a bad morning, but I think he'll be okay."

"All that while I was sleeping here? You really are amazing!"

"Oh, I don't know. Cut it a bit close, really. I almost lost you there!" he admitted, running his hands through his hair.

Celia stretched out her arms and looked at her hands. "The things you take for granted," she said with a smile.


	18. Chapter 17: Earth, Massachusetts 1934

Arkham, Massachusetts. May 1935?

"Where would you like to go next?" the Doctor asked with a grin. Derek had recovered and had joined them in the control room. The TARDIS was making gentle humming noises. It was difficult to tell if they were even moving.

Without waiting for a reply, the Doctor pulled a lever on the console, and the TARDIS began shaking and bucking like an earthquake.

"What's wrong?" Celia shouted, grabbing a railing and holding on for dear life. Derek had slid across the floor and was clinging to a railing with both arms wrapped around it, his feet slipping sideways underneath him.

"Does it do this often?" Derek yelled.

"No! Never!" the Doctor yelled back, slamming a lever sideways and turning a knob next to that. "Well, almost never!" he hedged, coaxing another lever into position. The screen in front of him flashed with dates and locations as though the TARDIS were slipping in and out of time and space.

"It's as though something is pulling at the TARDIS," the Doctor replied, reading the data flashing on the screen.

Suddenly the TARDIS stopped shaking. Everyone took a deep breath. Derek steadied himself at the railing, and Celia gingerly let go and tested the floor beneath to see if it was firm.

"It appears we've landed," the Doctor replied, looking at the screen. It, too, seemed to have settled down.

"What happened? And when and where are we?" Celia asked, opening the door to the outside. She was amazed and disappointed at what she saw. "We're back in Arkham!" she exclaimed.

"It's not exactly the same," Derek said, looking out the door behind her. "Look, the season's changed. The trees seem bigger, too."

Derek was right. It wasn't quite clear _when_ they were, but it seemed some time had passed since they were last here.

The Doctor strode out of the TARDIS and headed back to the house on Crane Street. "Where are you going?" Celia asked, running to catch up to him with Derek following close behind.

"There's something going on here, and I need to find out what. Maybe the Professor can tell me," the Doctor replied, not turning around as he spoke, making it so that Celia and Derek only caught part of what he said.

"What did he say?" Derek asked Celia.

"Something about the professor," Celia replied, waiting for Derek to catch up to her.

They followed him as quickly as they could up to the house. The Doctor was banging on the front door. The house seemed empty. As they approached, the Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the locked door. It clicked, and he turned the handle and the three of them walked into the house together.

The house was closed up as though for some time. Sheets covered all of the furniture. A calendar hung on the wall near the back door. May 1935.

"Well, you are right about the passage of time," Celia remarked, pointing to the date. "I wonder where everybody is." She didn't want to say it out loud, but the emptiness of the house unnerved her.

"You don't think another one of the Yith could be behind this, do you?" Derek asked, looking anxiously at Celia, and tenderly feeling his bruised chin.

The Doctor didn't seem to be listening. He had made his way to the desk and had removed the sheet that covered it. He was looking through the papers that lay strewn across it. He didn't look happy about what he was seeing.

"What is it?" Celia asked, noticing his expression.

"Trouble," the Doctor replied, handing her the letter he held in his hand. He turned to head out the door and back to TARDIS. Photos that had been with the letter fell to the floor and Derek picked them up.

"Wait a moment!" Derek said, looking at the photos. "These are photographs of _ruins_ of where we just came from! I recognize those carvings! How is this possible?"

Celia was reading the letter. It took her longer to read it than it had the Doctor, and she was only half way through it when she realized the Doctor had left the house. "Wait!" she yelled, running after him. "Where are you going? You can't just leave us here!"

"I can and I will!" the Doctor replied, striding toward the TARDIS.

"Why? What's going on?" Derek asked, running after them.

"Derek, you look after her. I'll be right back," the Doctor ordered.

"Oh no you don't!" Celia yelled. "I will not be passed around like this. I'm not a child, and Derek is not my body guard or babysitter!"

She raced ahead of the Doctor and managed to get in front of him at the door to the TARDIS.

"Celia, step aside. I'll be right back," the Doctor insisted.

"Nope. Either we all go or no one does," Celia retorted, her arms stretched out across the doorway to the TARDIS.

"This is too dangerous!" the Doctor argued. "We are running out of time. The expedition team could be there already! And if they encounter those creatures—if any of them are still alive down there—the professor and Wingate and everyone else involved could be killed!"

"We'd better hurry then!" Celia agreed.

"Oh, you impossible girl!" the Doctor snapped.

"Impossible! Hmm. You're a find one to talk!" she snorted, opening the door to the TARDIS and letting them all in.

Resigned to losing the argument, the Doctor followed her in and Derek stepped in, closing the door behind them.

With a flip of the levers, the TARDIS shuddered and seemed unwilling to break free of the bonds yet again.

"It's happening again!" Celia yelled. "Can't you do something?"

"I"m trying!" the Doctor yelled back, forcing a lever forward. He spun around and grabbed an item from a bin behind them. Celia thought about how she hadn't notice that bin being there before. The Doctor took out something that resembled a mallet and banged on the control panel with it. The lever moved and the TARDIS stopped shaking and the familiar noise and movement told them all that they had broken free.

"What was that all about?" Derek asked, catching his breath.

"I have no idea," the Doctor admitted. "Fun, isn't it?"

Derek and Celia exchanged glances which suggested that fun wasn't the word they would have chosen.

"There's definitely something about Arkham that needs investigating," the Doctor mused. "But not right now!"

The TARDIS had settled down and the noise had stopped.

"When and where are we?" Derek asked the Doctor, not sure if he should open the door or not.

"Australia, July, 1935," the Doctor replied with confidence.

"July? I thought it was May!" Celia replied, remembering the calendar on the wall.

"It was May. Now it is July," the Doctor replied, running his right hand through his hair. "We really don't have time to lose. Stay here," he ordered both of them as he opened up the door.

"Like hell!" Celia replied, looking at Derek with a grin.

It was after midnight. The sky was clear and a cold moon shone down in a wintery sky. They found themselves in the desert. Enormous canvas tents were pitched nearby. An airplane was tethered to the ground not far from the TARDIS. In the moonlight, Celia could make out the lines of three large jeep-like vehicles parked about 50 yards away.

The Doctor had already gone ahead and entered one of the tents. He came back out looking worried. "It's too late. He's already gone," he told them.

"Who's gone?" Derek asked, looking confused.

"The professor. We're going to have to go after him," the Doctor replied, going back into the TARDIS and bringing out three canvas bags.

"Did you hear that?" Celia asked Derek, "He said 'we.'"

"Yes, well, I may need your help after all," the Doctor conceded. "If these creatures are still alive down there, they may be weakened, but they are still dangerous. We may need to work together to get the professor out safely."

He handed them each a canvas bag. "Don't use it unless you have to," he ordered. "We aren't here to kill them, just to get the professor out and to stop anyone else from going in. Got it?"

They both nodded and then they followed the Doctor out across the sand, looking for traces of the professor's footprints. The moonlight was bright enough that they didn't need their flashlights to follow the tracks that the professor had left.

The Doctor led the way at a quick pace. Both Celia and Derek found themselves stumbling to keep up. Celia wiped her hand across her eyes, uncertain about what she was seeing. It was as though she were in the past and present at the same time. The moon shone down, but in front of her were lamps made of crystal. There were windows with ferns waving in a breeze, enormous beings moved down massive hallways. And then it was gone and all around her was sand and the moon shining up above. She looked over at Derek who stumbled in the sand beside her and wondered if he were seeing the same things.

After about a half hour of walking, they found some ruins that matched those in the photographs Derek had found. They could see a spot where the massive blocks had been pried apart to create an opening just large enough for a person to squeeze through.

"It's like an old doorway," Celia exclaimed. "I remember this!"

The Doctor motioned her to be quiet, and he led the way, flashlight in hand.

They clambered down the tumble of massive stone blocks and found themselves in a hallway 30 feet wide. Moonlight streamed through the opening above. The floor was littered with remains from the long past civilization.

Celia and Derek could not contain themselves as memories swept over them.

"This was the room of machines!"

"I remember this hallway—the tunnel to the archives is two levels beneath us!"

"The passage to the Square of Pillars was this way!"

The Doctor gave up trying to shush them.

"Four levels down—" Derek's voice suddenly fell as fear of the creatures gripped him.

"That's were the trap-doors were. Where the creatures were imprisoned," Celia finished in a whisper, grabbing his arm as she spoke.

No need for the Doctor to shush them any more.

The Doctor's flashlight illuminated the footprints of the professor. "This way," he whispered, gesturing for them to follow close behind.

In silence they passed the house of the Writing Master, each of them remembering learning to write with pincers for hands. Broken machinery, metal pedestals, and writing implements littered the floor. Another room filled with broken and half buried machines lay to their right along a hallway.

They came upon a basalt tower and stared at it in silence, fear overtaking Celia and Derek. Celia looked at the Doctor to see if he showed any reaction. His face was grim as he looked at the trap door at the base of the tower. The door was open to inky blackness below. Celia felt sick with worry. Where was the professor?

The Doctor's flashlight shone ahead and they could see the tracks the professor had left. They followed him over crumbled and fallen masonry that was piled high above them. The passage between the blocks was narrow, and Celia's backpack snagged on a block. She tugged at it in silent fear, and finally it pulled away.

On the other side of the blocked passaged they found the professor's footprints and then without warning, they found themselves in front of a yawning chasm, four feet wide at the narrowest. The Doctor shined his flashlight down into the darkness, but nothing seemed to penetrate it. It was impossible to see how far down the chasm went. "Curious," he whispered, wanting to get out the sonic screwdriver to scan it, but resisting the urge.

"Where is the professor?" Celia whispered, looking around.

"I think he got across," Derek replied in a low voice, pointing to tracks across the chasm illuminated by his flashlight.

"We're going to have to cross that?" Celia asked, not wanting to sound as afraid as she felt. The narrowest part of the chasm was closest to the edge of the fallen masonry which left no room for a running start to jump across.

"I can go. You two stay here," the Doctor replied with a shushing sound, preparing to jump.

"Oh, no! I'm staying with you," Celia retorted in a harsh whisper, thinking about that opening in the base of the tower behind them.

The Doctor looked at them doubtfully. "This was a mistake," he whispered, worry edging his voice.

"No, no. We'll be fine," Derek replied in a reassuring whisper. "We'll be right behind you."

The Doctor took a leap and nearly fell back, flailing his arms at the edge to steady himself in one frantic moment.

"That was heart-stopping," Celia stated with a sigh of relief.

"Good thing I've got two," the Doctor replied with a grin. Then he reached out his hand to grab Celia as she leaped over.

With her heart in her throat, Derek's flashlight on her back, Celia took a massive leap and clutched the Doctor's arm as he helped her across. Then, she turned and shined her light on Derek and the two of them stood ready to grab him as he jumped.

"See? Easy peasy!" Derek replied jauntily as he stood next to them.

The professor's footprints led the way down the hall past another basalt tower with another trap door open on broken hinges.

"I am liking this less and less," the Doctor remarked in a whisper, looking down into the trap door.

"What happened to your containment field?" Celia asked worriedly. "I thought it was supposed to last forever."

"Yes, well, I expected it to last at least another 50 million years," the Doctor admitted. "I'm not sure what happened. Perhaps they found a way out. They've had plenty of time to devise an escape plan."

After what seemed like hours since they first entered the cavern, they found the professor in the central archives. He was crouched on the floor, looking over a massive volume of cellulose bound with metal, frantically turning the pages, whispering to himself, "Can it be? Can this be real? Have I gone mad?"

"Professor!" the Doctor called in loud whisper. The professor jumped and looked around him. His eyes were wild with fear and madness.

He looked at the three of them and then back at the book at his feet. "It's all here! My whole life in writing! It's real!"

Celia looked up at the wall of cabinets. She could see where the professor had climbed up, using one of the open cabinet doors to gain a foothold and then where he had opened the lock to the drawer that held his massive volume. Her fingers twitched as she remembered the combination to her own locked drawer. "I bet mine is still up there, too!" she exclaimed, forgetting to whisper.

"Shh!" the Doctor hissed.

"But Doctor, you had about a dozen volumes in those drawers, didn't you?" Derek asked, looking up at the wall of cabinets as he spoke. "Wouldn't you like to see if they are still there? What if we could take them back with us to the TARDIS?"

"No!" the Doctor replied. "Not now. We need to go. Now," his voice was more urgent because he had seen something none of them had noticed. There was another set of tracks in the dust, and this set was all too familiar. Five round toes. If they weren't careful, that would be the only thing they'd see before they all died.

The professor's flashlight was dying and he took out a spare battery and swapped out the old one. While he did so, Derek climbed up the cabinet, retracing the professor's steps to get to a drawer just above the professor's. "I remember this!" Derek exclaimed, "This is my drawer! My book will be inside! Just think what people will say when they see it!"

"Derek, get down here!" the Doctor hissed. "We need to go!"

"But Doctor, don't you even want to see if yours are still there?" Celia asked in disbelief.

No one was remembering to whisper any more. Madness seemed to have overtaken all of them but the Doctor.

Derek had reached his drawer and pulled out the volume. It was heavy and he had a difficult time maintaining his balance as he perched on the drawer. The volume slipped through his fingers and fell with a crash that echoed through the archive room and down into the hallway.

Everyone stopped breathing and stared at each other in silence, their flashlights flitting around the room. Derek stood frozen, balanced on the open drawer, looking down in horror at the book lying in the dust at the base.

After a long and painful moment, the Doctor motioned to Derek to climb down, quietly. The professor had wrapped up his book into his backpack. It barely fit, and the added weight to the pack made him stagger backward as he stood up.

Slowly Derek climbed down and picked up his book. "Leave it!" The Doctor ordered, but Derek ignored him. He clutched it in his hands, unable to stuff it into the bag that the Doctor had given them.

The Doctor shook his head angrily and led them back out into the hall, his sonic screwdriver out and scanning the area, more concerned about finding traces of the creatures and less concerned about keeping quiet. The screwdriver hummed as he scanned the area.

Celia's flashlight lit up the path in front of them as she stood side by side with the Doctor. Suddenly, she stopped, putting her arm out in front of the Doctor to stop further progress.

The tracks the Doctor had spotted now lay in front of them. The creature had crossed their path while they were inside the archives room!

The Doctor looked at the reading on his sonic screwdriver and motioned Derek and Celia to open the backpacks he'd given them. Derek reluctantly put down is book and opened his bag. The professor offered to take the book, but Derek gave him the bag instead and picked up his book, clutching it to his chest.

Fear gripped them as they looked and listened for any sign of the creatures. They made their way slowly down the passage, keeping together in a tight group. At each opening off the main hallway, the Doctor motioned for them to stop while he scanned the area.

At last they came to the chasm and prepared to jump across. The Doctor jumped across first and scanned the area on the other side to make sure it was safe. Celia was next to go. For some reason, she found it more frightening the second time, and had to summon her courage. Finally, with much encouragement from the Doctor, she made the leap and stood, breathing heavily next to him.

The professor jumped next. The book in his backpack added more weight than he realized, and the jump was farther than he remembered. He was in midair when he realized the miscalculation, and he flailed his arms, reaching out for the Doctor and Celia. His fingers caught the edge of the chasm, and he clung for a moment, scrambling with this feet for a foot hold.

"Oh, no!" Celia cried out as he fell. "Doctor, what do we do?"

The Doctor was already down on his knees, clutching at the professor's wrists. "I've got you!" he told the professor. "Don't let go!" He pulled as the professor pushed with his feet, and soon the professor was up out of the chasm, breathing hard and wiping his hand across his brow.

"Oh thank you!" the professor gasped. "I don't know what happened. It was as though something was grabbing at my feet. Something in that inky blackness is alive. I could feel its consciousness all around me!"

"We need to go!" the Doctor admonished. "The longer we're down here, the more danger we're in."

"Derek, come on!" Celia shouted.

Derek was sitting on the floor of the hallway, holding his flashlight in his mouth, working on fixing the metal binding of his book to the strap of the canvas bag so that he could hold it on his back when he jumped.

"Derek, there's no time for that! Leave it!" the Doctor ordered, but Derek didn't seem to hear.

"I've almost got it!" Derek said, testing the rigging job by giving the canvas bag a shake. The book held. He wrapped the strap from the canvas bag over his head and positioned the bag and book over his back.

"Derek, be careful!"

"It's too heavy!"

"You're going to fall!"

All three of them tried to convince him, but he didn't seem to hear a word. With a determined look on his face, he leapt into the air.

Time seemed to stand still. It was a moment that Celia would never forget for the rest of her life: the light of Derek's flashlight arcing up across the ceiling of the hallway, his arms in front of him, ready to grab the Doctor's outstretched hands, the canvas bag shifting as the book pulled away, the look of surprise on Derek's face as he realized he had underestimated the added weight of the book.

He was inches away from the Doctor's hands when he fell. They heard his flashlight smash against the chasm wall and a yell as he collided with the side.

And then nothing.

Celia screamed, "Derek!"

The Doctor yelled, "Derek! Can you hear me?"

No answer.

They all shined their flashlights down into the opening, but the light would not penetrate it.

"Where is he?" Celia asked, sobbing.

"He's gone," the professor replied sadly. "Whatever it is down there almost had me. I could feel it all around me. It's got him, I'm afraid."

"No! We have to do something! Doctor, we have to get him out!"

The Doctor was crouched down on his heels, scanning the chasm with the sonic screwdriver. "If I could just see anything, anything at all!" he said in frustration to no one in particular.

Just then, the whistling started. It was difficult to know exactly where the sound was coming from, but it was quickly getting louder. The Doctor was the first to hear it. He stood up, suddenly alert, scanning the area with his sonic screwdriver.

Celia was still sobbing, trying to see into the chasm with her flashlight.

"I'm sorry, Celia," the Doctor said, "but there's nothing we can do. We need to get out of here, now!" She didn't respond, and he grabbed her by the arm, dragging her away from the chasm at first.

They reached the mound of blocks that they had scrambled through on their way into the hall and the Doctor motioned to Celia to stay close behind him. She took out the instrument from her canvas bag, ready to defend herself against the creatures. She was still crying, silent tears streaming down her face.

The professor followed them at a slight distance. He had more difficulty getting up the blocks due to the added weight of the book he insisted on keeping with him.

The Doctor made his way through the opening and after scanning the area, helped Celia through. The professor followed, but his bag got stuck and he took it off, putting the book in front of him through the opening. He scrambled through and reached out to grab hold of his book perched on a block just on the other side of the opening. But instead of grabbing the book, his fingertips pushed at it. The book slid down the other side with loud crash, dust flew up around it as it settled at the bottom of the mountain of blocks.

"Oh, no! I'm sorry!" the professor apologized, but the Doctor would have none of it. He glared at the professor in the dim light of their flashlights. The professor finished his climb down and went to retrieve his book. It was wedged in a crevice between two boulders, just out of reach of the professor's fingertips.

"You have to leave it!" the Doctor hissed. "We have to go!"

Reluctantly, the professor turned his back on the book he had risked so much to obtain.

The three of them made their way along the passage more quickly now. The opening to the outside world was 100 yards in front of them, the pale glow of moonlight illuminated the opening. But the creatures blocked their path. Although they could not see them, the sound of the wind around them told them the creatures were closing in.

The Doctor turned on his device, standing with it aimed in front of him, motioning Celia and the professor to keep behind him. He tried once more to communicate with the creatures. "Let us pass," he ordered, "and we will do you no harm."

The whistling intensified.

With a flip of a switch, the Doctor's device sent out an electrical pulse aimed at the space in front of them. A screeching noise told them that the pulse made contact. "Celia, get yours ready!" the Doctor ordered.

She fumbled with the switch in the dark. "Now! We need it now!"

"I'm trying!" she replied in frustration, "The switch is stuck!"

The screeching noise was replaced with the whistling wind, telling them the creatures had regrouped.

Then, with a snap, the device whirred into action, sending out a pulse of electricity into the air. A screech as the pulse hit home. Silence.

"Come on!" the Doctor yelled, grabbing Celia's hand as the professor ran along behind.

They made it to the opening and scrambled out into the moonlight. A sand storm had sprung up while they were inside and all the blocks were covered with sand again. Familiar landmarks were gone. The Doctor turned and aimed his sonic screwdriver at the opening behind them, causing the sand to solidify into a wall as solid as glass.


	19. Chapter 18: Moving On

The three of them straggled into the camp, exhausted and saddened by their loss. Celia and the Doctor saddened by the loss of Derek, and the professor saddened at the loss of the book he sought to bring back.

"Perhaps it is for the best," the professor began.

The Doctor and Celia stared at him in disbelief.

"What could you possibly mean?" Celia asked angrily.

"Losing my book. Perhaps it is for the best," the professor repeated. "If others learn what is down there, there will be more attempts to find it. As long as those creatures are trapped down there, no one else need die."

"No one should ever try to find this place again," the Doctor agreed.

"Then I must convince them to leave. They must give up this expedition before it is too late. It would be best if I do that alone," the professor added. "Seeing the two of you will only add to their curiosity."

"Yes. We should go," the Doctor agreed, taking Celia by the arm.

Celia wandered around the controls of the TARDIS, feeling a bit lost. She found her journal where Yog had left it, and picked it up. "There's something I don't understand," Celia remarked, flipping through her journal. "Why couldn't I see the entries I'd made. The pages had all looked blank until all of a sudden, I could see what I'd written!"

"Perception filter," the Doctor replied. "Do you remember me telling you that you'd remember what you needed when you needed it?"

"Yes," Celia replied, remembering.

"That was a little device I used in order to keep you from remembering things too soon," he told her.

Celia was silent as she thought about that. "I think you cut it a bit close," she replied.

The Doctor nodded in agreement, but did not reply. He began setting levers and dials in place. "I should take you home," he said, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

"Home?" Celia asked in surprise. "But why?"

"Your mother must be worried about you. Can't have that."

"Actually, she's not." Celia's voice was flat as though the words were difficult to say.

The Doctor looked up at her from across the console. "Why? What are you not telling me?"

"She's gone, Doctor. She died a year ago. My dad passed on a few years ago. I'm all on my own, actually."

"I'm sorry, Celia."

"It's okay."

Silence.

"So you see, there's no point in taking me back," Celia suggested. "I'm all alone, just like you. Maybe we could be all alone together?"

Silence.

The Doctor looked down at the console for a moment, then, with a grin, he looked up at Celia. _"Allons-y!_" he said with a toss of his head. He pulled a lever and they were off.

—End-


End file.
